


flatline

by lohoron



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Boys In Love, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Public Sex, accidental dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lohoron/pseuds/lohoron
Summary: in which jared and richard accidentally go on a date. or a few dates.they still live in the hacker hostel despite it being like season 5/6 era because NOSTALGIA !!
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	1. coffee?

It's kinda been a bad day.

Richard hasn't done much. And to his credit, it is a Saturday, and nobody else was really doing anything either. Dinesh and Gilfoyle have been playing video games for nearly ten hours straight. Erlich has been clearing a bong and napping _with_ said bong for ten hours straight. Richard has no fucking clue where Jared is, but he bets that he's doing something of value (because he's fucking Jared). 

Until he gets a text at 8 P.M., from Jared, simply asking, _Coffee? :-)_

Hesitating, Richard doesn't respond for a minute. He is in no mood to drive to a coffee place and wait for a fucking order and eat a scone or whatever Jared has planned. But the idea of just... spending some time outside of the hostel... sounds like a dream.

So he grabs his coat and calls out a weak goodbye to the other guys before texting Jared back with _sure, where?_

_Just come meet me at Grey Stone park! See you in a few :-)_

Richard frowns, but decides to travel by foot. It's only a ten minute walk, after all, and he feels like his car might kill him if he steps inside. From pure annoyance. He shoves his fists inside his pockets, whistling nonsensically. 

He passes the stars like they're bushes in the street and he makes a mental note to never forget how fucking vast the universe is. His eyes are tired and drooping, just from existing consciously for the past eight hours, and he wonders when this is going to end.

Feeling like this. Like every day is a bother. 

He quickly presses the morbid thought from his mind. As a teen, he'd accepted fairly early on that he was just gonna have to deal with never being content. Or comfortable. Or pleased.

When he makes it to Grey Stone, he stands in front of the playground at the entrance for a few minutes. He remembers drunkenly stumbling here after playing some video games with the guys. God, he was so drunk. He'd slid down the slides and stopped at the end to giggle _I'm just so happy right now!_ and he pretends like he doesn't remember it (it's less embarrassing. Maybe), but he does. Quite fondly. Back when he was barely aware of what Pied Piper could eventually become.

A smile plays on his lips as he saunters along, mouth twitching in mild anxiety. He still hasn't seen Jared, but he's betting real money on him being somewhere in the fucking trees, like, whistling to the birds or something. 

Richard finally spots him in the back of the open field, laying on his back on top of a picnic blanket. There's two coffee cups set on top of a tree stump right next to him, serving almost like a little table. 

He approaches, fists still balled in his pockets, hovering over Jared, "uh- hey," he says soft and rushed, watching Jared's eyes open. 

Jared sits up, patting the empty space next to him. "How's your day been?" Jared asks immediately, passing Richard his coffee (black; one sugar), and taking a sip of his own tea. 

"Bad," Richard sighs, causing Jared to give him that one glancing, overly concerned, look, "well- no, not bad. Just. Ordinary." 

Jared nods. "I understand," he smiles, passing Richard a scone (yup, he fucking guessed it), "Sometimes it doesn't feel too differentiated. Ordinary and bad."

Richard feels a pang in his heart (because no, only he can feel like this, no, Jared should not be allowed to feel like his day is bad just because it feels average), but he nods. He's silent, scared to disrupt a moment that doesn't even exist yet.

"Yeah," he decides on saying, taking a bite from the blueberry scone, placing his coffee down so that he can lay on his back to look up to the stars, "ordinary and bad."

Jared joins him, shoulder-to-shoulder. 

"I should've brought my telescope out, heh, it's... it's nice out." Richard points at the sky, his finger covering a bright blur in the sky, "That's uh- that's Mars," he mumbles, watching Jared stare up towards the planet, too

"We should come out here more often," Jared smiles, staring at Mars in complete bewilderment, wondering what it'll look like through the enlarged lens of Richard's telescope, before turning his head to face Richard. "Bring the telescope next time. I'd love to see."

Richard nods, his lips quirked up slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." He turns to Jared, too, feeling oddly at peace. "Hey, did you know... that- uh. Technically, a day on Venus is longer than a year? On Venus?" Jared cocks his eyebrows up curiously and shakes his head, Richard chuckles and stares back at the sky. "Yeah. Heh. Weird, right?"

"Very interesting," he responds genuinely, his turning to gaze up again. 

They sit outside for two hours, staring blankly at the sky, while Richard mutters weird and obscure facts about outer space. Jared loves listening to them, God he loves hearing Richard just being passionate, and responding with questions that Richard finds silly ("More trees than stars in the Milky Way, really?" "Uh- yeah. Heh. I thought everybody knew that one"). 

When it's just past ten, Richard sits up, realizing that neither of them have drank very much of their hot beverages. And now they're both cold. 

He thinks about apologizing to Jared for wasting his money, but he knows that Jared doesn't think like that. He knows that even just getting this coffee was a fucking pleasure for him. Apologizing would be unjustified.

"I'm getting kinda hungry," Richard mumbles, rubbing over his groaning stomach.

Jared sits up, too, knees bumping against Richard's. "There's a 24/7 diner with truly delightful pancakes up the road," Jared smiles, standing up and reaching his hand out, "How does that sound?"

Richard puts his sweaty hand in Jared's perpetually ice cold one, and smiles back. "Yeah. Let's do it."

Jared helps Richard up, folding the blanket over his arm and watching as Richard takes both of their cups and disposes of them. They walk shoulder to shoulder in a comfortable silence to the little diner tucked into a comfortable corner. When Jared walks in, he's immediately greeted by two older women, smiling bright, "Jared, honey, sit down, sit down! Who's the special--"

"Ah, Betty! We'll just take a seat in the corner booth, if that's okay?" He hugs her and then hugs the other woman, as well, leaving Richard to anxiously fumble with the strings of his hoodie in the background. 

"Not until you introduce us to this handsome fellow," Elaine says, Richard barely eyeing her worn out name tag, and Richard turns a bright shade of red.

Jared chuckles, stepping aside to allow Richard to see both of the women. "Betty, Elaine, this is Richard Hendricks." Hesitantly, Richard reaches his hand out to shake Betty's, and then Elaine's, and they're both giggling to each other, exchanging knowing glances with Jared.

"Ah, so _this_ is--"

"Alright, ladies, we'll go get seated," Jared rushes, pulling Richard away from them in a spur of anxiety that Richard's never seen from Jared before. 

"You know them?" Richard asks as they squeeze into the booth, Richard snuggled into the very center. 

"Betty and Elaine are two of my closest friends! I used to come here a lot. They're very good with allergens," Jared smiles, and Richard doesn't really know how to feel about that.

Jared's always been kinda... weird. When Richard met him at Hooli for the first time, he was like the one kind person he'd ever met in tech. Still kinda is. But he was also someone who talked a little weird. Too formal. So many anecdotes. And he was someone who just kinda looks a little weird (which, Richard isn't a stranger to. He's looked and sounded weird his entire life). So tall and skinny with overly clean clothes and sleeked hair.

He likes those things about Jared. He does. He likes that Jared is friends with two ladies in their sixties that work at a nearly desolate diner that (of course) Jared loves to attend. 

One menu is placed in front of them, with a smiling Betty staring down at (mostly) Richard. "What will you have to drink, honey?" She floats, eyes fixated on Richard.

"Uh- just. Just a coffee. Sugar? Oh, on the table. Okay. Yeah. Just a coffee," he rambles, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment. Never gets easier.

But she nods kindly and writes it down, turning to Jared. "Chamomile with a dash of honey for you, darling?" Jared nods, bowing in gratefulness. Richard remembers when Jared bowed to Erlich and immediately felt uncomfortable and plain wrong. This seems familiar. Nice. Like he finally gets to see Jared being comfortable.

"And the banana gluten free pancakes, please," Jared smiles, tapping Richard's hand to see if he's made up his mind. 

Richard stares up from looking at the pancake menu (Jared did take him here for the damn pancakes, so he's gonna get some damn pancakes), flustered by the array of options. "Uh-- I'll do... blueberry. No. Wait. Uh-- chocolate chip?" He looks at Jared for approval, weirdly deciding that he wants approval, "Can I, like, get one of either? Is that... ah, probably not, uh..."

"Absolutely, honey! We'll give ya one blueberry and one chocolate chip, sound good?" 

Her tone is almost as sincere as Jared's. Jesus Christ. 

He nods, handing her the menu as he chuckles at himself. 

They start talking about Vassar, for some reason, which transfers to a short conversation about Richard's short time in Stanford, which leads into one of Jared's anecdotes about how he once passed the Stanford building on his bike, handing out flyers for Reproductive Rights and Freedoms.

"No way," Richard chuckles, "I remember that! I mean-- I like, never saw you. Or any of them. But everybody always talked about you guys," He captures the warmth of the coffee mug Betty got him ten minutes ago by wrapping his hands around it gently, taking a sip.

"Oh, I know. I love a good forum, so the day after I went, I checked the public Stanford forums. I'm fairly certain they were calling me beanstalk hipster," Jared laughs, in this wonderfully truthful way that Richard only sees when he has him alone. Richard's eyebrows bump up, beanstalk hipster sounding awfully familiar.

"Ha, God, I think Big Head told me about it. Were you _really_ wearing a _beanie_?" He giggles, smile genuine and lovely. Jared nods, the sound of his laughter bouncing around the empty diner. "Jesus. How fucking cool, huh?" Richard grins, pulling his knees up in front of him.

"We nearly crossed paths," Jared beams, "Maybe we were destined to meet."

Richard feels a little bit sick to his stomach hearing that. Not in a bad way. Just... in a nauseating way. A way that makes Richard realize that he has to acknowledge just how much he enjoys being around Jared. Jared's his best friend. It's pretty fucking obvious.

"Heh. Maybe," he mutters out instead, taking another sip of his coffee.

And then Betty walks by with two delicious looking plates (Richard decides that he definitely wants to steal a bite of Jared's banana pancakes... and he now wants banana pancakes), setting them in front of both boys. "There we go, lovebirds. Anything else I can get ya?" 

Richard chuckles in dismay, shaking his head and muttering, "Ha, not... no. Not lovebirds. Thanks you. Thanks. Betty," with wide eyes.

She winks at him and walks away, and Richard feels well-shaken. "Can't believe she thinks that. Like we're together or something, that's. Ha. That's ridiculous."

Jared's pinches his arm and presses his lips firmly together, nodding. "Absolutely."

"Jesus Christ," Richard moans as he bites into his chocolate chip pancake, his eyes wide and happy, "I can't even remember the last time that I had pancakes. Fuck, man. These are so good." He reaches over to gain a bite from Jared's plate, taking a piece on his fork and into his mouth. "Oh my _God_. I should've gotten banana. Hmm. Banana walnut."

He's talking with his mouth full and he looks like an excited little kid going out to dinner and ordering big-boy food for the first time. Jared thinks it's the most endearing emotion he's ever seen on Richard.

"Right? They know what they're doing," Jared smiles, getting just a smidge of butter from one of the packets on his plate, "I started going with this one foster family I lived with about ten years ago. Then I moved again, and thought I'd never see this place again. And here we are."

Richard smiles, pouring syrup over his short stack, "Here we are."

"Richard, you don't really talk about your family a lot," Jared starts, and Richard nods, confused, "I've just noticed. What are they like?"

He rolls his eyes, as if he's still a teenager with some pent up angst. "Tulsa is Tulsa. I don't know. My mom was like... fine. Dad was absent. I... uh... I have a big sister. She's okay. I just don't really keep in touch with her. Wish I did."

"What's her name?" Jared wonders, leaning in with his chin on his hand.

"Tracy," Richard starts, "She's a neurosurgeon now. My parents fucking adore her."

"Oh," Jared says softly, smile on his face (oh my God, Richard is opening up, oh my God), "And they don't adore you? I find that hard to believe." He takes a slow bite of his stack, watching Richard nearly choke on an overly eager one of his own.

"Nah. I mean. They always thought I was kind of... an underachiever. Like. I did my silly little computer stuff. Ha. And that was it," he frowns a bit, picking at a chocolate chip, "They kinda stopped talking to me after I... dropped out of Stanford. I don't know. I guess I understand." He shrugs.

Jared furrows his eyebrows. That's not how family should work. "That's not fair," he finds himself saying, sipping his tea. 

"I don't know. I don't really think about it anymore. I'm doing my thing. Heh. They're doing whatever," he props his knees against his chest, reaching for his nearly empty mug. "I remember when I first got a job, uh, my mom would drop me off. And I hated it because the older guys would always make fun of me for being a mommy's boy. But. But I was just like, trying to save for a computer. So I could stop using the family desktop," Richard reminisces, waving Elaine down for another coffee. She sees him and sticks up her thumb, grabbing the pot from the kitchen. 

"And? Did you get your own computer?" Jared asks, excited, as if it matters at all. 

Richard watched Elaine fill his mug and he shakes his head, chuckling. "I was working at a comic book store. Minimum wage. And I loved eating out. So... no. Never got enough to get the computer I wanted." 

"How's the food, boys?" Elaine asks gently when she recognizes a beat of silence. 

"Great, Elaine, as always," Jared smiles, and Richard sticks up his thumb (immediately feeling awkward). Elaine walks away and Jared immediately turns his attention back to Richard. "Maybe you should give them a call. Your parents, I mean. Or your sister."

Richard shuffles in his seat, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Don't know. I feel like it would just... I don't know. Like, prove that they were right about me. With my silly little computer stuff." He wears a somber smile, and Jared is so sad because it's so much more than that. Richard is inventive and brilliant and made beautiful things with fucking code.

“Your computer stuff is definitely not ‘silly’, Richard,” Jared smiles confused, eating a mouthful of pancakes. Richard’s almost done with his; Jared is going slow and savoring every single taste. “You are so intelligent, and you've come so far! Even since I’ve met you. You're determined, so persistent and stubborn to a fault. But it all makes you. And you should be proud of that.” 

Jared sits back after his little rant. He feels kind of fucking stupid. But then the corners of Richard’s mouth quirked up and he gave a twitchy smile. “Thanks,” he chuckles, “I- maybe. I don't know. I’m… I don't even really care. Like, I’ve survived without them. I just… I don't need them.” Jared gives a little nod, watching Richard stack a double bite. 

“Of course. I agree. You definitely do not need them.” Richard sips his coffee, staring at Jared behind his own eyelashes. “But it still could be nice.”

Richard nods, agreeing. “I'll see.” he finishes the last of the food next to him and slurps up his coffee. “How about you?” 

They talk for a while then, Jared oversharing and Richard not minding for once. They look at each other when Elaine asks if they want a slice of gluten free chocolate cake. They obviously say yes. 

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally get out of there and start walking back to the hostel. They’re still laughing, having moved to the topic of embarrassing stories in high school. Richard talks about the photo of him on a theatre stage with just underwear on circulating. Jared talks about so much (joining debate club to fight for a cleaner bathroom environment, fainting in front of his class because he had accidentally taken his father’s heart medication instead of his own multiple medications). It was nice. Sweet and tired and so much closer than usual. 

Richard’s arm is linked around Jared’s, squeezing. It's slightly chilly out for a regular California day, and Jared is thankful for the extra warmth. He gets cold as a freezer in mild weather. 

When they nearly reach the door, it's kind of tense.

Richard unlinked their arms, walking up to the porch and folding his arms over themselves. “Thanks for that,” Richard chuckles, “Kinda… had a shit day. And-- this was fun. This was really nice.” He stares down at his feet, rocking on the balls. 

“My pleasure, Richard,” Jared exclaims. He reaches for the doorknob. “Have a great night.”

And they wander into their separate bedrooms (or, well, bedroom and server-room-cot-with-a-clothing-rack). Jared falls asleep with joy and warmth in his heart. Richard stays awake trying to avoid it.


	2. sunrise, sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jared and richard watch the sunrise together. and talk. a lot.

Two weeks go by without them mentioning anything of their little meetup. Richard is the same: awkward and off-standish and restrictive. Jared is also the same: overbearingly sincere and gentle and caring. 

Until Richard texts Jared one night, bored and tired, around four in the morning.

_hey  
i totally get it if u don't see this or if u don't want to or anything  
but  
would you wanna watch the sunrise today?_

He waits anxiously for a reply, focusing all his attention on picking at the skin around his thumb with his teeth. He holds his phone like he's trying to strangle a baby, hands tight and determined. He almost wants to throw his phone in the garbage. How fucking lame. Watch the sunrise? And what, give him two hours of time to prepare? _He's not like you, Richard. You're this fucking goblin that hunches over his computer all day and drinks too many energy drinks and can't sleep at night because you think too much. He's not like you. He's gonna think you're a fucking idiot, God. Less than two hours until sunrise and you thought this was the perfect time?_

He puts his phone done, closing his eyes frustratedly before shoving it under his pillow. His stomach feels tight, curling into itself like a spear's caught in the middle. Trying to forget the text he just sent, he presses his knees up and hugs himself with his arms, turning sideways while biting his bottom lip. All it does is lead him to thinking about more scary shit.

Like how he has to work really fucking hard at trying to fix the fucking Seppen lawsuit. How he doesn't have enough money to pay all his hard-working engineers. How he has to figure out a way to do all this bullshit without ratting Gilfoyle out. And then he has to go to another one of Dana's fucking party because Jared wanted him to so bad. And he just couldn't say no. God, how can anyone say no to Jared's eyes?

Right before he starts to spiral into thinking about why and how he's decaying slowly (hey, the average lifespan of a Tech CEO is only 55. He's well on his way), he hears a ding from underneath his pillow. 

_I would be delighted! x Jared_

Richard smiles, shoving his face into his pillow. 

_cool!_  
_come to my room around 5? i know a spot we can drive out to :)_  


Overkill? Maybe, Richard thinks, but Jared will appreciate it. 

If asked, Richard would not admit it, but he spent the next hour getting ready for his sunrise-watching with Jared. 

He climbs down from his bed and grabs his purple hoodie and a small stack of dress shirts. He slips into his one pair of acceptable jeans, slowly examining which shirt would look best under the hoodie. (It is very obviously the grey shirt, but Richard still spends a good twenty minutes wondering if green checkers look acceptable under a purple hoodie. They do not.) He rushes into the bathroom after making the obvious choice, and brushes his teeth. Twice. He puts on a lot of antiperspirant. Dabs a bit of aftershave on his neck.

His hair looks stupid. GAH, _the bags under my fuckin' eyes!_

And now he can't stop staring at himself, finding every little thing that's wrong. It starts with asymmetry. 

(And then it's kind of a spiral. Droopy eyes. Big nose. Huge nose. It's hooked, oh god, Richard thinks, it's hooked. _My lips are so small. Oh my fucking God. Why does my face look like that? My teeth are like, right fucking there, oh God. Why do I look like this?!_ )

He smacks himself across the cheek and breathes. This is ridiculous.

He looks good.

And that's not the point. He doesn't have to look good. He's just hanging out with Jared. Jared's seen him at his worst, he couldn't care less whether Richard was wearing one shirt over the other. Wouldn't shame him. He knows that, but he still... wants to impress. In some stupid little way, he wants to impress Jared. So. He walks back to his room. And. He kind of makes a playlist.

It's short. A few songs he thinks Jared would love for their drive up to Richard's lookout spot. It's like, a thirty minute drive, so it's not weird. And Richard won't tell him that he made this playlist for him. No. That would be weird.

When he's putting the last song into the Spotify playlist, he hears a soft knock on his door.

He scrambles from his chair, opening the door in a hurry. He can't help the brilliant smile that forms on his face when he sees Jared has a thermos of coffee for him in his hand. And a thermal of tea for himself. "Hey, thanks," Richard gladly takes the thermal from Jared, walking out of his door.

Jared looks nice, too. Like he always does. Button up shirt and his little green vest (Richard's favorite) with a pair of neat khakis wrapped around his legs. He wears his hair to the side, neat and perfect and never out of place. Richard feels good. "Where are we going?" Jared asks, excited, as he follows Richard out of the house. The others are undoubtably still asleep until at least noon. 

Richard unlocks his car, stepping into the drivers seat. He's not the best driver. But he can't possibly ask Jared to drive to the damn place, too. And he knows the way. "Uh. You ever been to Epworth Summit? I think it's called? There's a secret little... little area. It's really nice. Lots of flowers and stuff. And it's high up but the walk isn't too much, y'know." Richard starts the car, plugging in his phone and discreetly clicking on his playlist. The song Kites are Fun by The Free Design plays, and Richard immediately notices Jared mouthing along to the opening melody.

"I've never been! I used to go birdwatching near there and always wanted to go, but I thought it closed down." Richard smirks, nodding, as they start driving.

"Yeah. Heh. Kinda. But... there's a parking lot pretty close by. And it's just. It's so nice," Richard promised, taking a grateful sip from his coffee. 

"How did you find out about it?" Jared pries a bit, knowing that this is their time, this is their time to be open and vulnerable with each other. 

Richard stares ahead, eyes on the road. "Uh. When I... was working on Pied Piper. As a music copyright thing. I, uh, just kinda... would take really long walks. To clear my mind. Because there's always so much going on." He chuckles, knocking on his head. "But I decided to go for a drive. And then I drove for, like, twenty minutes. And I felt so suffocated and scared so... so I got out and walked. And then I, like, somehow made it to this really gorgeous place. So I marked the location, and... came back. When stuff gets really hard."

Jared's nods, understanding, but his face scrunches a bit. "Are... are things difficult now? Really hard?" He asks cautiously, not wanting Richard to feel forced into anything. Richard sinks down into the seat, genuinely thinking hard for an answer.

"No, I don't think so," he says, unconfident, "I think. Heh. I think I just... want someone to share it with." _I want to share it with you._

Jared is giddy, cheering inside of his head. It feels so wonderful; the cold air in the car, the husky smell of Richard's aftershave, the worry in Richard's eyes as he drives and listens to the songs change.

(Yeah, Jared seems him. Jared sees it when Richard opens his eyes wider and shifts in his seat and turns the sound up just a bit as the songs change. Jared sees him peak over to get a reaction.)

"I'm happy to be that person for you, Richard," Jared smiles, eyes soft and kind. There's such an invitation to him. Richard wants to drive straight into a tree just so that their bodies are smushed, held together, close and intimate and ruined. He wants Jared to know everything. He wants to be able to talk. God, he wants to be able to talk so bad. Because Jared's lovely little face _means_ it. He's happy to be that person for Richard. 

Richard almost cries as "Grow Old With Me" by John Lennon starts to play. He turns red in embarrassment. As if he knows that Jared knows about putting together a custom playlist for this one specific car ride. Lowering the volume, he mutters an apology under his breath and goes to skip the song before Jared chirps back, "Don't skip this one. Please."

And then Richard doesn't know what to do.

Oh, God, he's driving a fucking car?!

He runs a hand through his hair, vaguely steering the car.

_What the FUCK does that mean, Jared?!??_

He doesn't even remember their destination. Oh, shit, this... Why is this it? Why is it doing something to him?

Maybe it's the idea that Jared is showing interest in _growing old_ with Richard. Any way that is -- Richard thinks-- is fucking perfect. Whether they are best friends or fucking co-professors or just people that know each other. Or anything else. He now just know that, in the simplest, most concrete way, Jared has some thoughts about growing old with/alongside Richard. And those thoughts are not negative.

Oh, Richard's gonna puke. That's a lot. How much more life is there to live? Jesus. He has to stop the car.

He pulls over on the side of the road, which is luckily abandoned at the moment, without saying a thing to Jared and opens the door to the car without saying a word and puking up the coffee and pizza from yesterday on the side of a public fucking county road. 

It gets on his pants. His shoes are hit, too, and he wipes his mouth with his hands after and then they're dirty, too. And then he has tears in his eyes and feels lightheaded and then Jared is standing right next to him with a hand placed calmly on his back. He's patting, drawing circles. Richard sniffles, shakily standing back to his feet (God knows when he ended up dropping to his knees), and looking up at Jared holding a fucking handkerchief. 

"I... don't know. Why. That just happened," Richard says quickly, wiping his mouth and his nose and his hands, staring back at Jared. Jared smiles. Of course he does. And gets Richard to step away from the puking-site. 

"It sounded like an anxiety throw-up." They lean against the car, sitting down next to it to face the freeway. Jared hands Richard a water bottle (thank fucking God), and Richard takes it immediately. "Richard?" He asks, hesitant.

"Mhm?" Richard mumbles back.

"Are you anxious about me coming to your place? Because we don't have to. If this is too sacred, I totally understand and respect tha--"

"Jared, woah, what? No. No. Not at all. It's. I want you to see it." He feels Jared's hand tap against his leg, a pat of reassurance. "And. Don't... don't say that. Don't sell yourself short. Heh. If... If I said that I didn't want you to come after driving halfway there, you should... push. For. Like. For what you want. Because. You deserve to know. Like. My most comforting place. I. I want you to see it." 

Jared's eyes are glossy as Richard rambles and Richard feels like he's going insane. He's not lying. The trip isn't the problem. The problem was that fucking song -- Richard curses himself for even putting it in -- and the stupid implication it had. But he wants Jared to know that... He knows a lot of shit. He's fucking smart, and a human being, and he should allow himself to be selfish sometimes, God dammit. 

He feels Jared's arm bump his shoulder and he gasps, flinching slightly. Jared is wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, Richard," Jared's tears are happy (Richard thinks. He never fucking knows) and there's this beautiful little glimmer of excitement in his eyes (pretty eyes. Pretty blue fucking baby doe eyes), "Even this is wonderful."

(Jared thinks it, but he can't say it. _You'remymostcomfortingplace.You'remymostcomfortingplace.YOUREMYMOSTCOMFORTINGPLACE._ )

"Yeah," Richard agrees awkwardly, taking another sip of his water. He rests his head against Jared's shoulder and Jared rests his head on top and it's quite perfect. "I. This is nice."

"Can I propose something?" Jared asks softly, his hand still lingering around Richard's knee. He wants to puke again. They're so close. His entire body feels like it's shrinking in on him and it's weird and uncomfortable but he'll deal with it for Jared. Oh. A hundred times over. Richard mumbles a, "yeah" and Jared continues, "How about we watch the sun rise from here?"

Richard considers moving from this spot and he thinks he might die, so he just swallows his breath and nods. "That'd be. I would like that, yeah."

Jared smiles. "So, did you end up talking to your family at all?"

Richard flashes back to their late night pancake ordeal two weeks ago. "I did. Actually. Uh. I called my mom," he scratches the side of his nose and sighs, "she's just. I don't know. Not too excited to, like, hear. From me. But. I don't care. So." His voice cracks and Jared feels like if Richard is owed anything -- it's a mother that loves him. 

"It's okay to care," he says, and Richard knows how true it is, but he can't make himself believe it any context that involves himself as the person caring about himself, "That must have been painful. To feel like your mom wasn't excited."

Richard takes a deep breath in.

_Ha. It's okay to talk about your feelings, Richie! Promise. Promise. I know this is kind of a fucking first, but getting deep into the shit with someone is good for you! You can do it. Yeah. You can talk about this._

"I don't wanna talk about this," he deflects instead, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Okay," Jared whispers back, no disappointment or anger in his tone. "That's okay."

"Jared." Richard lifts his head, huffing out a breath. "What do you wanna talk about?"

They're staring at each other now, and Richard feels himself starting to melt.

They talk about hot chocolate. And then the holidays (and how Jared has celebrated nearly every December holiday. And how Richard got Christmas every year, and got the worst presents ever). And then they moved on to talking about how Jared had a shoplifting phase and how Richard had a comic book creating phase. Which moved to Richard talking more about Tulsa (and about Big Head being a weird fucking teenager), and Jared talking more about the one time he lived in a little shack under a bridge in Massachusetts with the kindest woman he had ever met. 

("She was just so incredibly eccentric and lovely. She was happy and it was truly all that mattered. Gosh, I wish you two could meet." Richard smiles, whispering, "Why can't we?" to which Jared responds, "She passed away from a heroin overdose. I was placed in a different house afterwards." "Oh. God. Uh- I'm sorry.")

Richard gets into talking about his first girlfriend in fifth grade, whom he dated for exactly eight days, and Jared imagines little Richard Hendricks holding hands with a tall blonde girl and he can't _not_ laugh a little. Then it's Jared's turn, and he talks about his second relationship (the first one doesn't really count, he... would rather not talk about it), and how he made her a mixtape and she disliked the third song, so they almost broke up. But they held out for another four months. Which... is a fair amount for two fifteen year olds. Richard laughs when he describes himself as a little green bean with a long fringe and huge graphic t-shirts. And his girlfriend as a short neurotic girl who liked midi skirts and tank tops. It's nice. Richard thinks it's all so nice.

They stop talking only when the sun looks too pretty to ignore. And then they just lean against each other, calm and happy, whispering sounds of amazement. 

It's noon before they can even begin to find a break in their conversation.

They only realize it's noon because Monica calls Richard and Richard declines and breathes out, sitting up straight. Jared's posture is horrendous, and his butt hurts, and his back hurts, but he can't be bothered to care. "We should. Head back. Maybe," Richard mumbles, reading Monica's _CALL ME!!!_ message. 

"Yes," Jared whispers back, standing up from his place on the ground. He helps Richard up, almost laughing at the little pile of puke next to the car. "Yes. Let's get going." They circle the car, stepping in quickly. 

"Oh, and, Jared, uh-" Richard starts the car, waiting for both of them to be buckled. "I'll. I'll bring you next time. Some other time. To my place."

Jared nods, happy, "Okay, Richard." He clicks the play button on the car's bluetooth, still linked to Richard's phone, and keeps listening to the song that was on hours ago. "I'm glad we did this."

Richard makes an incredibly awkward and illegal u-turn with his tongue sticking out his mouth in focus before answering, "Yeah. Same. Uh. I like... talking to you."

The giddiness sticks with Jared the entire drive back. What a wondrous feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the playlist they listened to https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ERaNUiQu8BRelYz7ZtXJh?si=32lFgJBSQsyppvIVJHxJ_w
> 
> # made up locations <3 B)
> 
> super stoned while writing this excuse any mistakes... i'll fix it later


	3. dinner and a movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jared anxiously tries to invite richard over to hang out at his condo.

Jared looks at himself in the mirror.

Again and again.

He practices the words to say. How to ask. Where to look. Where not to look. How long to keep eye contact. When to smile. When to lean in.

His hands are sweating within seconds. He feels himself almost start to show through his dress shirt. 

It's not even that big of a deal. God, it isn't. It's a lot less of a leap than the one he took last month. When he first asked Richard to lay under the sky with him. It's a lot less of a leap than telling Richard not to skip that fucking song. And yet, this feels the scariest.

He's gonna invite Richard over to his condo. He'd been living back in the hostel a couple of nights a week, just when he needed to be there all night. Or wanted to be there all night. And it's not even a big deal. Literally.

Because Richard has been in his apartment countless times. Spent nights here, intentional or unintentional.

(Like that one time Richard had asked Jared about advice regarding fucking over Action Jack Barker, and they'd drank almost two pots of coffee while getting the fine details in print. And then Richard just kind of fell asleep at seven in the morning, as they were just finishing the plan. Jared took the laptop off of his lap and tucked him into a blanket.)

But it feels worse now. Not worse. More important. Cooking a meal together and watching a movie... isn't... weird. Right? Friends do that all the time. He does it with Gloria. And! Oh! He's cooked with Jeffrey once before! And Manny. 

Then again, he's never wanted to kiss any of them, either.

No.

_No, Donald. Pull yourself together. You don't want to kiss Richard. It'll damage the company. And your friendship with one another. We are just hanging out._

He sighs, confidently pulling a vest on. "Hey, Richard! I was just wondering if you have anything to do tonight? I'll be making a Hello Fresh recipe and watching a film, if you'd like to join?"

(AAHH! Does it sound too eager?! You can't be too eager!)

Shakily, he takes a deep breath in. "It's okay. If he says no, he says no. He has a life."

(Oh God, if he says no, it means he has a date, doesn't he?)

(What am I gonna do?)

He pulls himself away from the mirror. No need for this right now. His usual amount of self-doubt is crippling enough, he doesn't need it to literally possess him through the rest of his day today. Jared toes his way to his bedroom door, sliding into his work shoes. Closing the door behind him, he takes one final look at his condo and really, really, hopes that the next time he sees it, Richard's standing right next to him.

\---

Jared gets to work early to train Holden to make the perfect cup of tea for Richard. 

He can't quite perfect the ratio, and it's driving Jared particularly insane today. Because he's told him so many times. So many times. Richard doesn't like tea all too much, but it's better for him than coffee, and he likes the taste to be milder, rather than strong. He doesn't like it when you leave the bag in, because he'll forget. That's why you have to make it before he comes in. So it'll be ready for him, steeped and all. 

"Holden," Jared narrows his eyebrows when Holden seems to forget about the tea bag, picking at his nails instead. Holden looks up, wide-eyed. "Bag out."

"Yes, Jared."

He takes the bag out and stirs, handing the mug to Jared to taste. Jared's lips make it to the brim and he takes a small sip, closing his eyes. Imagining being Richard. It's fine. Of course it's fine. Good, even. On any other day, he would've conceded. Because Jared wouldn't really change anything about this cup of tea. But today, he drops just one more splash of cold water and fishes out an ice cube to plop into the drink. "He'll be here soon. It has to be cooled down quicker than usual."

And just when he finishes, the elevator dings, and a sleepy Richard Hendricks walks into the room. Sleepier than usual, or, well, sleepier than what should be usual. Jared's face immediately drops. Jared stands behind Holden, watching him hand Richard the mug of tea. And then he sees it.

A hickey. A hickey. A hickey.

On his collarbone. Right at the top. Oh. Oh. No.

He blinks his eyes, but understands. This cannot interfere. No way. Maybe he shouldn't even ask Richard to come over tonight. He's not ready for the rejection. Oh, god. Richard got laid last night by some beautiful hot woman who kisses necks and leaves hickeys. He can't ask him. No way.

"I see you were busy last night," Jared smiles, hinting towards his tired eyes but his mind focused on nothing but the purple-ish mark barely sticking out of his t-shirt. It's not defined. No. Not a gnaw. 

Richard groans as he nods, "Yeah. Code review." And then he just walks right into his office.

He's obviously tired.

Jared is not gonna get to invite him over tonight.

Slouching, he walks towards his own office. Across the hall from Richard (the closest he could get without Tracy complaining), in a slightly smaller space. He gets his laptop set up, squeezing his eyes shut in anguish. _Oh, Donald, you've come undone._

He presses his face against his desk and takes a deep breath in. Long day it is.

\---

It's five in the afternoon when Jared gets a text message from Richard.

_could u come to my office?_

He didn't even need to respond, just smiled bright and prepared himself. He greets Gilfoyle and Dinesh, stares down at Holden. And then he's softly knocking at Richard's door, where Richard is already chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing his leg awaiting Jared's arrival.

"What's wrong? What do you need me for? Does your back hurt again? I saw the slump in your posture when you walked in this morning--"

"No, no, Jared, uh-- sit down. Cmon." He direct Jared to sit on the chair opposite himself, shy and uncomfortable smile on his face. "Just-- uh. Why have you... been ignoring me, buddy? Heh." He wrings with the strings of his hoodie, trying so hard to not look away from his hands. They seem of tremendous importance right now. Because he doesn't want to see Jared's expression. Doesn't want to see him uncomfortable.

"Oh," Jared starts, clearing his throat, getting ready to lie (because saying 'you have a hickey' is not a sufficient reason), "to be frank, you looked quite tired this morning. I didn't want to disturb you." Richard taps his fingers on the table. 

He looks up like he doesn't believe him and Jared thinks the worst. He's getting fired. "I- okay. Yeah. Makes sense." Jared's eyes keep flickering to Richard's collarbone. _I'm happy for him. I hope he found someone that's right for him._ "Oh. This, yeah, uh-- sorry. I... forgot it was there until I was already out the door. And, like, I'm sorry if it's... distracting. Girl gave it to me last night. Heh."

Jared is going to blow up. But he smiles kindly, feigning excitement. "That's wonderful, Richard."

(What's really going on in his mind is: Okay. So. Richard knows I'm in love with him and this is very simply, very easily, but very indirectly, telling me that he's not in love with me. Ouch. Ouch. How could you ever think that it might be some other way? Any other way? This is how it always goes. Don't fool yourself. Please.)

"Yeah," Richard shrugs, "Random person. Was drunk. So. I don't know-- if, uh, wonderful. If that's the word." He turns red and looks up, Jared's eyes full of happy and care.

(Going on in his mind: Jesus. He's so happy for me. So they weren't dates.)

"Look at you!" He looks Richard up and down. "Getting into the dating scene. A random girl? You little minx."

Richard turns red. Afraid.

(He doesn't want to tell Jared that he actually got this hickey when he went to a fucking _gay bar_ and almost, _almost_ had sex with a guy. But the guy, Liam, if Richard remembers correctly, just sucked on his collarbone and it freaked Richard out and he decided that he wasn't gay. Nope. No way. And yeah, maybe he had worn this shirt to gauge Jared's reaction to him having sex. And yeah, maybe he's fucking disappointed.)

"Ha. Yeah, sure." He taps his foot against the leg of his desk. "So. Are you... are you doing anything tonight?" 

Jared thinks back at this morning. His speech. Oh, God, he practiced it and he can't remember it. He should ask. Fuck. He should ask.

"I-- not really. I was just planning on... making a Hello Fresh recipe and... and... I was going to watch a documentary" (JOIN ME, JOIN ME, JOIN ME). He looks at Richard's beautifully crafted face and takes a deep breath. Chill out.

"Oh," Richard smiles, "I... cool! Uh. What documentary?"

Jared wants to cry. "Free Solo! I've heard great things."

Richard's eyes light up as he leans forward. "I've-- uh- I've been. Like. Wanting to watch that one, too. It looks. Interesting. Like. How anybody could ever do that."

"Richard, would you like to join me?" Jared proposes hesitantly, trying to hide wiping his sweaty palms. 

"Uh. I mean. If... if you wouldn't mind? Sounds fun." He shrugs like he's uninterested but every single thought in his mind is begging Jared to let him come over.

Jared smiles bright. "Of course I wouldn't mind. I'd love to have you over, Richard."

Oh, Richard is nauseous. Because he means it. "Thanks, Jared."

\---

They drive separately, Richard right behind Jared. He really hopes that Jared can't see him frantically drinking water and swallowing breath mints while driving poorly.

Jared cannot be bothered to even look behind him because he is doing the exact same thing. Even though he knows now that he stands no chance. That Richard has just had sex. With a woman. So. Jared pales incredibly in comparison.

Richard thinks about what they're not gonna do. And why he wants them to do exactly those things. And he can't possibly make any of this happen for real. It has to exist as a fantasy in his head. He has to imagine it again and again and again, for he's not allowed the pleasure and release that would come with _genuinely_ having a relationship. He's not allowed the gentleness of Jared's fingertips on his body. Not allowed the domestic nights of cuddling and watching television. No way.

In a state of Jared-based dissociation, Richard finds himself walking through the door of Jared's apartment.

It's the same as always. Neat, but homey. Modern, but quirky in its own way. The little cat statues on Jared's coffee table and the collection of matryoshkas on the table right outside of his bedroom give him away. _Someone with a soul and a body and a mind lives here._

Jared knows exactly what to do. It seems like he always does. He lets Richard put his laptop on the couch, instructs him to leave his jacket wherever, and guides him into the kitchen. "Alright! So. I've got three options for us." Jared pulls out three packages and lays them on the counter. "Salsa verde enchiladas, Gnocchi with spinach and grape tomatoes, or... spiced chickpea fritters. Which one?"

He's smiling bright and welcoming and Richard feels a bit faint because Jared is so kind in such a constant way that it makes him feel like anything might be possible. He points at the first option, shrugging. "Whichever you want, though. Uh. They all sound. They sound alright to me. So. Your choice."

Jared immediately places the other two back in the fridge.

"Thought you... didn't eat gluten?" Richard says casually, pointing at the tortillas as Jared opens the box. He leans on the counter. 

"Shhh. I can handle it every once in a while." He winks at Richard. Richard nearly melts. Oh. His legs feel like jelly. Great.

Richard chuckles, grabbing his phone and starting up a random playlist, placing his phone flat against the counter at a decently low volume. He decided replaying the one he made for Jared was... not a great idea. Or maybe too good of an idea. Either way, Richard felt like enough embarrassing songs would come up. And immediately, Brokedown Palace by Grateful Dead starts playing. He shrugs. Could be worse.

"Richie? Could you grab me a pan and a small pot from that lower cabinet right there?" He points across the kitchen, just a step away, and Richard quickly nods. He places them both on the stovetop, still turned off. Jared grabs a small bowl, a potato masher, a strainer, and a baking dish in record time. 

"Uh. I can chop? The- uh, the scallion, and tomato? And the chili pepper." He grabs a knife from the block hesitantly, searching for a cutting board.

"That would be perfect! I'll deseed the poblano and cut that after," Jared cheerfully goes to preheat the oven, grabbing the poblano and chopping the top off to deseed it. Richard gets to cutting the vegetables and realizes that he is not good at cutting vegetables.

Especially not tomatoes. Oh, God, it's all mangled up. Uh. He switches to cutting the scallion and the chill pepper. It's a little easier. Just... little chops. Thin slices. "Uh-- Jared?" Richard chuckles nervously as he's finished cutting the scallion. Jared peers over, standing next to Richard now with the second cutting board, slicing up the deseeded poblano. He grins when he sees Richard's mushed up tomato.

"Don't even worry about it. Really." Richard nods, finishing his horrible cutting job on this poor tomato, hands shaky as he stares over at Jared's beautifully long fingers wrapped gently around his knife, cutting like a chef.

There's something hot about it. A boy that can cook. A man that can cook. Richard feels like jello again.

Somehow, they get all their filling and their mashed beans done, sparing half of the poblano (because, let's be honest, neither of them can really handle it), and they start rolling up the tortillas to press them into the baking form. Jared's look a lot nicer. 

"Heh. Not. Not too good at this whole... cooking thing," Richard says anxiously when another one of his tortillas deforms. Jared looks over and grins, his tortillas already pressed into the pan. Richard has two left. So, naturally, Jared does his best to help.

"Let me give you a hand," he offers kindly, standing behind Richard and wrapping his arms around him until his hands reach the, now, unwrapped enchilada. Richard forgets how to breathe correctly for just a second as he settles into the warmth of Jared's tall body around him. (AH. WHAT IS HAPPENING???) "Look at me do it. It gets simpler after a couple of times."

Jared rolls it like a fucking expert but Richard can't focus. Like, at all. Jared's voice sounds so incredibly kind. And so nearby. Richard can't do this.

"Got it?" Jared asks softly, and Richard shakes his head, chuckling again.

"Uh. No. You-- you should just finish mine. I'm... this is- this is not my venue. Heh." 

And Jared does, arms still around Richard as Richard clenches his teeth and his entire fucking body in an attempt to not shake in anticipation. 

\---

The enchiladas only have ten more minutes in the oven by the time they finally start watching Free Solo.

This is mainly Richard's fault. All Richard's fault. He went into the bathroom for thirty minutes after the whole Jared-leaning-over-me-like-we're-in-the-movie-Ghost thing. And ran every scenario in his mind. Theres three main ones.  
1\. Richard tells Jared that he likes him even though he isn't even sure himself and is still in denial about the whole thing and Jared denies his courting request and he's humiliated forever and probably has to step down as CEO of Pied Piper and would never be able to show his face around Jared again.  
2\. Richard does not tell Jared that he likes him and he lives in a stiff reality of almost-never, silently suffering. But at least everything else would continue as usual.  
3\. (and this one barely exists in Richard's mind) Richard tells Jared and Jared, for whatever reason, likes him back.

Shit.

Being a human being is so hard.

Jared waited on the couch (but he checked up on Richard twice, obviously), his gaze slightly concerned when Richard sat down next to him. But he didn't say anything. He started the movie and smiled soft, giving an understanding nod of his head.

He's no stranger to needing a social break. Sometimes it all feels so overwhelming. It's okay that Richard had to get away for a while.

(He tries to tell himself that it's okay but his stupid brain can't stop thinking that Richard probably hates him and wants to leave his condo immediately.)

Richard’s hands are already sweating by the time they first begin showing clips of Alex Honnold rock climbing. Not sexy.

And then their food is ready and he shocks up from the sound of the oven going off because he's already so on edge. Not sexy.

But he has to relax.

God, Richard has to relax.

He’s fine. It's fine. It's just Jared, for God’s sake. Jared is easy to talk to and easy to enjoy. It doesn't have to be this difficult. 

Jared plates their food, obviously, topping Richard’s with an extra handful of shredded cheese, and topping his with some additional salsa. They eat in front of the TV, anxiously discussing Honnold’s sanity.

(They conclude he's more sane than the two of them combined.)

“I just- Jesus. How does he do that? The. Like. Shuffling. I can't watch,” Richard squeals, setting down his plate. Jared smiles endearingly. 

“It’s so interesting, right? How… fearless he seems? Maybe something we should try to emulate,” Jared chuckles, taking a quick bite. Richard nods and smiles along, recognizing that it would be incredibly helpful to not be so horribly anxious all the time. 

Jared scoots a little closer to Richard, their thighs paralleled. Richard holds his breath. 

“Yeah. Ha. That would… be nice. To. To be doing that. I- uh- I can't remember the last time I was… ‘fearless.’” He takes a bite, still looking away from the screen. Oh, there's so many thoughts in his head right now. Fearless. 

If he was fearless, he might have kissed Jared that night under the stars. If he was fearless, he might have held Jared’s hand while on the side of the county road. If he was fearless, he would lean over right now and tell Jared he looks beautiful. 

But he's not fearless. He’s Richard. He's anxious and tired and way too terrified to share his feelings. He’s not intimate. He's… half of a person, he feels. Because this is terrifying. The prospect of having feelings is scary enough. The prospect of displaying them feels like something that is not even a possibility. 

The rest of the night is more awkward than it should've been.

They finish their food, finish the movie, and play a game of Scrabble. Richard wins, Jared congratulates him like he's won the Nobel prize. 

They talk a bit, like usual, but the conversation feels surface level. Richard tells Jared that he's been sleeping poorly, Jared tells him how to combat it (no energy drinks after dinner; journaling; melatonin gummies; meditation. As if they're not things that Richard has tried before). Richard asks Jared how his days have been and Jared decides to lie and tell him everything's better than usual.

(He can't help but smile when Richard seems genuinely happy for him.)

(And then it's way past midnight and they're watching a rerun of How I Met Your Mother on Jared’s couch and it's nice. It's so nice. Richard hates that Jared makes him feel so good. It makes everything so difficult for him for no reason. It's not fair. It's not fair.)

It's not fair that leaning his head against Jared’s shoulder and flickering his eyes closed leads him to fall asleep faster than he has in weeks. It's not fair that Jared doesn't even fucking flinch. Doesn't move. They fall asleep in front of the TV together.

Richard dreams about living with Jared. When he wakes up, with his head on Jared’s lap and Jared’s hand in his curls, at five in the morning, it almost feels like it was all real.


	4. that didn't happen. right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys get drunk. the boys lose their inhibitions.

Richard can't really remember how it got to this.

But he's fucking wasted.

It started with this stupid game that Dinesh suggested. Never have I ever. A game that Richard knew but had never had the friends to play with (without seeming… pathetic). They went around the circle, each one of them spouting out something they wanted to know. 

(Richard had asked if anybody had ever skinny dipped. Jared took a shot. So did Gilfoyle. Jared asked if anybody had ever cried while watching an animated film. Richard took a shot. Jared took a shot. Dinesh reluctantly took a shot. Gilfoyle had asked if anybody had ever had sex in public and Jared took another shot and Richard turned red for absolutely no reason. And then Dinesh asked if anybody had ever seen someone die. Dinesh took a shot, thinking he was being clever and unique. But then Jared took another shot. And then Jared was really drunk. So Richard naturally went into the kitchen to down two shots of vodka. Just to get on his level.)

And now they're playing truth or dare. Because this is apparently a fucking teenage sleepover. The rules are modified -- if you don't want to do a dare or a truth, you have to take a shot. Richard feels like a wuss, but he doesn't think he can handle more than the three shots he’s already had. 

But then Dinesh is presenting him with a dare that is completely out of the realm of possibilities (“Draw a smiley face on your butt!”) and he takes another one, cheering along with everybody else.

His eyes keep flashing to Jared. To Jared giggling and turning red. To Jared in his khakis and his sweater. Oh. He would love to run his fingers over Jared’s sweater right now. He wants to whisper in Jared’s ear and rough up his hair. Oooooh. This is bad. Richard feels woozy.

“Truth of dare, Jared?” Gilfoyle says, a rare drunken smile on his face.

Jared thinks, and then mumbles, “truth!”

“Weirdest place you've fucked?” Jared turns red. 

“Oh, I shouldn't. It's unseemly to gloat--”

“We won't remember in the morning, we’re all shitfaced, Jared. Share! Share!” Dinesh chants, happy. Jared chuckles.

“I suppose. That the strangest place… was… in a train.” 

Ah. Richard is much too excited by that answer. He blushes from ear to ear. Ha. Ha. 

“How does he fucking do it?” Dinesh mumbles. Mainly to himself.

Four rounds and a lot more shots later, Richard is laying on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle went to bed half an hour ago, citing tomorrow’s code review as their reason. Richard knows it's just because they're burned out. And that's fine. 

Except now he has a bunch of alone time with Jared and the entire world is spinning so beautifully. And Jared is laying next to him on his side, just staring. Admiring. Richard should feel flustered, but he doesn't mind. He wants it. He wants Jared to look at him. To stare.

“You have such a wonderful nose,” Jared mumbles, strolling his pointer finger across the bumps in Richard’s nose, loopy smile on his face. 

Richard doesn't say a thing. He holds his breath. 

Jared moves his hand down to stroke his thumb over Richard’s parted lips. “I could stare at you all day long. You are magnificent in a way that I can't begin to describe to you.” 

Richard turns to face him on his side. “Try,” he mumbles, his head woozy. Jared’s fingers are lingering across his cheeks now, feeling like a damp flannel. 

Jared tucks a curl behind Richard’s ear and shifts closer. Their noses touch. Their lips are mere inches away from each other, both open. They're breathing each other's air like it’s some kind of tantalizing tactic. Jared closes his eyes and imagines that this is heaven.

There’s a strong aroma of Svedka still lingering in the living room, but it feels less than important. Because this is real. This is real. Jared is so close to him and if he just-- even if he accidentally leaned in. Even just a bit. They would kiss. Oh God. They would kiss. Richard is completely still. 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared whispers, his fingernails scratching Richard’s scalp. 

“Jared,” Richard whispers back, long eyelashes flickering with every spastic blink of his eyes. “Jared. Please.” 

Jared takes a shallow breath in. “What do you want me to do?” He checks. 

Richard furrows his eyebrows. “Let me. Can I- please?” His hand moves to Jared’s cheek, prompting Jared’s eyes open.

(Oh, they're so blue. His lips look so soft and pink. I feel sick.)

Jared’s eyes flicker between Richard’s mouth and Richard’s eyes, the little moment intimate and sacred. Infused with pent up passion. “Yes,” Jared whispers back, hoping that he's reading this right.

And then Richard leans in just the slightest and suddenly everything is dancing. His mouth is dancing around Jared’s, his fingertips dancing on the floor of Jared’s jaw and cheekbones and scalp. Their lips smack, the sounds sending chills to Richard’s spine. There's so much nose and there's so much saliva and so much breathing and so, so much alcohol. But Richard feels perfect.

Richard climbs on top of Jared messily, planting his legs on either side of him. He deepens their kiss, desperate and terrified of this all being some sick dream. An evil experiment. But the moan that Jared makes when Richard takes their lips apart proves to him it isn't. Richard could never imagine a sound that beautiful. 

“Fuck,” Richard whimpers, his hands now resting on Jared’s chest. “I-- I’m sorry. I’m just. M’drunk,” he slurs, seeing Jared’s sad eyes droop and the corners of his mouth fall. 

“Okay,” Jared responds, even though it's not okay at all, and then Richard is scrambling to get off of him. “I-- Goodnight, Richard.”

Richard’s stumbling to his room, stopping in the hallway to turn around and whisper, “G’night, Jared.”

\---

Richard ignores Jared like he's a fucking wild fire.

He tries not to. Really. But. He genuinely can not even bear looking at Jared without wanting to curl up in a ball and cry in the corner. He's never had this many feelings. Or… not since he had his little preteen infatuation with the hot neighbor next door.

It gets worse with every day that passes. Richard sees Jared in the kitchen. He runs out of the kitchen. Richard sees Jared during a fucking meeting, he looks at anybody but Jared. Richard hears Jared’s voice when Monica is on the phone with him and he has to excuse himself.

Oh. This is a lot.

He's so terribly anxious. Why did he… why did he kiss Jared? Fuck. Fuck. And the worst part is that they were drunk(!!!!!) and Richard doesn't even know if Jared knows that he's ignoring him because he's anxious about Jared’s reaction. Maybe Jared thinks Richard is mad at him, and he's not, God, he's not at all, and he wants to cry just thinking about it. 

But he doesn't. Instead he just balls it all up inside and lets in manifest in even more stimming than usual. A plethora of hair rustles, hand fidgets and stuttering words. He doesn't even know how to sit still anymore. It's eating away at him. 

Five days and they've barely exchanged a single word. This is stupid. Richard feels so stupid. Jared keeps trying to reach out to him: sending him Bitmojis through text, trying to call him every one in a while. He just has to get over himself. Really. This is ridiculous.

Richard is talking to Monica in the small conference room about some lame financing stuff (blah, blah, blah, blah, money) when she finally decides to say something. She sighs and puts the paperwork to the side, crossing her arms and asking, “Richard, why are you avoiding Jared?”

It's so matter-of-fact. No flexibility. It's a ‘why’ not an ‘are you?’. Richard makes a face either way, tsking. “What! Ha, ha. I’m-- I’m not. I'm not. Why would you-- I’m not avoiding him.” He bites down on his lip. _Please don't ask any further, please, please, this is hellish._

“Don't give me that. Every time he's in the room, you freak.” She cocks an eyebrow up and Richard turns red under the pressure, stuffing his hands underneath of his thighs to sit on them. He shuffles, squeezing his eyes shut and staring down at the glass table.

Shit.

He's so fucking embarrassed.

Monica won't say anything weird. If he… tells her, right? She won't… be mean. Or… tell him he has to get some kind of form signed for kissing an employee. Oh, he feels queasy. No. He can't tell her. No, no, no. Nobody knows that he likes guys and it's easier this way. Much easier. Right? Right. Yeah. Yes. Oooohhh but it's killing him. He just wants to talk to someone. Ah(!!!!)

“I kissed him,” Richard blurts out, covering his mouth immediately after he says it. Monica sits back and grins. “I- I- kissed him when we were drunk and I- it was a mistake and I don't know if he even knows it happened and I’m-- I just-- I kissed him. I don't know what to do.”

His head hits the glass pane in defeat, knees bouncing. “Richard,” Monica says slow, her voice tinted happy. Richard does not look up. “Richard, it's _okay_.”

“Oh my God, how is it at all, even a little bit, okay? I’m fucked. I-- I don't--”

She interrupts, “This is _Jared_ we’re talking about here. He would do anything for you.” He raises his head.

“Oh, great, even fucking-- fuckin’ letting his gross boss make out with him? Awesome. Yeah. Jared will lay down in traffic if I told him to, doesn't mean I should fuckin’-- fuckin’ do it. Ah. God. I’m such a fucking idiot,” Richard mumbles, running a hand over his face in frustration, rubbing at his eyes. 

“What? Richard. That's ridiculous. You know that's not what I meant, right?” Richard shakes his head sadly, unconvinced. “I mean, c’mon. Jared… loves you,” she says it like it's an obvious fact. 

“Shut up,” Richard mumbles, “He doesn't.”

(Perpetual insecurity and consistent poor judgement makes Richard Hendricks a very lackluster partner. But Jared doesn't like him like that. Right? Right? AH.)

“I’ve never seen somebody more in love than Jared is with you. You have to know that. Don't you know that?” Her tone’s bordering on concerning now, and Richard squeezing his eyes closed and rocks in his chair, shaking his head. 

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows are furrowed. “In love with me?”

Monica smiles a little, nodding her head. “He is in love with you.” 

“Shut up. No. He isn't. He-- no. He doesn't like me.” His hands feel numb, posture slouched and eyes terrifyingly wide. 

“Talk to him,” Monica says gently, reaching a hand to clasp on top of Richard’s, “I promise it'll be worth it.”

And Richard wants to collapse into the floor and cry because this is a lot. Jared doesn't love him. He's sure of it. Right? Yeah. Yeah. Jared doesn't love him. He wishes he did, but he doesn't. And he's come to terms with that. Yeah. He's not gonna talk to Jared about the kissing. Nah. Nope. He won't. 

“I can't,” Richard breathes out, defeated. “Monica, I’ve never… never felt this way about anybody before. I- just-- I. I can't risk it. Y’know. Losing him.”

“You're not gonna lose him,” she assures, squeezing his hand before returning it to her own side of the table. “Poor guy has no clue what's going on. He probably thinks you hate him.”

“Jesus. Thanks, Monica,” he screeches back sarcastically, resting his head in his hands. “I can't do this. I can't do any of it. I’m so tired. I just-- I just wanna… stop thinking. And. And. I have to stop thinking. It's too much.”

“Yeah, Richard, you do need to stop thinking,” Monica agrees, taking the signed paperwork and starting to get out of her chair. “He’s not gonna wait forever. God knows he’ll never make the first move.”

“Because he doesn't like me!” Richard whines, staring at Monica leaving the room.

“He loves you, Richard. Don't wait forever. You're gonna regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a little short i'm sorry!! i just wanted to get it out :)


	5. the horrible, terrifying, life-changing one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richard talks to jared. kinda.

Richard is not a stranger to being uncomfortable.

In every day life, he does not go through two consecutive hours of being comfortable. There's always something. Head is itchy, neck hurts, back hurts, body is overheating, body is too cold, the words don't seem to come out. It's always been like that for him. Always.

But he is a stranger to uncomfortable situations. He'd rather let it manifest inside of him until he can't breathe anymore. Shutting yourself off from yourself is the perfect way to not have to deal with any real shit. Ever. He's so high strung and terrified all the time that doing nothing is nearly always a more viable option than doing _something_. But it just isn't realistic anymore.

Because Jared is a real person with real feelings as much as Richard is. And it's unfair to ignore him because of something that he is not at all in fault of. It's mean and cruel and Richard knows that. So. He texts him around midnight.

_hey_  
_i can't sleep_  
_would u wanna go to the park again?_

He bites down on his lip anxiously, laying down on his lofted bed. His feet kick in the air, car keys in his pocket stabbing at his leg. This is scary. Richard is scared.

And then he hears his phone ding, the green messaging icon hovering over his home screen. 1 Unread Message from jared :)

He breathes out a huff of a breath, unlocking his phone.

_Sure. Bring your telescope? :)_

His heart's beating out of his chest. There's so many possibilities. What if Jared remembers? Then it's a question of whether or not it's reciprocated. What if he doesn't? Then it's a question of whether or not Richard should even say anything about it at all. No, right? He doesn't have to. He can just pretend like he doesn't remember either. Oooh. Okay. This is okay. 

Richard swings his legs off of the bed, climbing down quickly and going into his closet to grab his telescope. He'll at least get to give Jared this: the concreteness of visuals. The fact that the universe is expanding every second and it's never-ending, but they have this little nugget of space right above them that they can see and admire and love. And right as Richard clumsily reaches for the door knob, there's a little knock on the door.

He opens it, his heart fluttering when he sees Jared standing right in front of him, wearing a pair of jeans and a cozy purple sweater. Ah. So. This is not going to be easy, huh?

"Hey," Richard smiles, and Jared returns it easily. "We'll drive, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me," he says softly, sticking up a thumb. "Here, let me give you a hand." Jared takes the telescope from Richard's hands, a glimpse of his skin brushing over Richard's. It makes him shiver.

Richard thanks him. Or maybe just in his head. He can't remember. And they walk outside together, loading the car. Richard's hands are shaking. 

It's not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. Jared has this aura about him that makes everything just a little easier, and Richard can not express how grateful he is for it. Because driving to Grey Stone in near silence should feel deafening, but it feels nice. It feels nice as Jared adjusts his sweater and stares outside. It feels nice as Richard stares a glance at Jared smooshing his cheek up to the window. 

(Maybe it's the Xanax he took fifteen minutes ago kicking in, but Richard is starting to feel better. Like it's all going to be okay.)

Jared seems to know that there's something up. That Richard needs time to get his silly, messy thoughts out of a jumble before he can start to talk properly. And he's respecting it. And Richard's kind of angry about it, because he's been nothing but disrespectful to Jared these past five days. He doesn't deserve this treatment. This regular treatment. Jared should be mad, pissed off, yelling at him, crying. But he's keeping it together. For Richard. It's just too much.

They're silent even when Richard is setting up his telescope for them. 

Richard feels shaky and weak-limbed by the time he realizes that he has to talk. 

They sit down on a flat rock formation, across from each other, with legs crossed. Richard can't look at him. He looks so sad and hopeful and precious and kind. Richard is gonna throw up.

He takes a shaky breath in and looks down at his hands. "'M sorry for... for not talking to you. For a while." Oh, it's the best he can do. It really is.

"It's okay, Richard. I know you have a life outside of me," Jared whispers, sad smile playing on his lips. Richard takes a deep breath again. Don't lose it. Stay calm. Please.

"No. It's... Well. Jared, you don't... deserve that. You don't deserve to be ignored like that," Richard mumbles, blush running to his cheeks. He looks up and Jared seems like he's about to cry. No, no, no. "Just. I'm sorry."

"Is it because you kissed me?" Jared asks, barely a whisper. Richard can feel his heart beating out of his chest. Ah. Ah. Scary. Scary talk. Scary things. Kissing. "You were intoxicated. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Richard tries to get enough air into his lungs. To scream that it is a big deal. A really big deal. To scream that he wants to kiss him again, sober. To scream that drunk him that night had more balls than he's ever had and he needs Jared to know. 

Instead, he sighs and says, "Cool." And then Jared looks so pretty under the flickering streetlight. And he doesn't want it to be 'cool' anymore. He wants scary and difficult and he wants to fight for it. He wants to just lean in and tell Jared that this isn't okay. That he can't do this anymore. That Monica said Jared's in love with him and that he doesn't know what to believe anymore. 

Instead, he rests his head in his hands and breathes shakily and fast, the world shrinking around him. "Would you like to talk about it more?" Jared says softly, scooting closer. Richard whimpers, shrugging his shoulders. He swears he can hear Jared's heart beating. "Richard, I... I really didn't mind--"

"That's- I'm sorry, Jared. I... I-- took advantage of you. And I-- I- did it and it was bad and I am so fucking sorry. I just... I really care about you. And I. I don't want you to feel like... like you have to do things for me. Like you have to..." he swallows a breath, "kiss me. Or anything. It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Jared whispers back. He has all the understanding in the world. Richard resents him for it. "But you didn't make me do anything, Richard. Really."

Richard looks up for the first time in a while. And he sees Jared's eyes brimming with tears, a happy little smile playing on his lips. He wants to scream. Why does Jared do this to him? Why is it that Richard Hendricks has gone all his life not caring too much about romance until he realized he wanted it with Jared fucking Dunn? WhyWhyWhyWhy.

He feels Jared's hand rest on his cheek and it almost makes him cry. "I... Do you really think it was a mistake?" Jared asks, his voice so sweet and sad and Richard wants to scream that he doesn't want it to be a mistake. He wants it to be the rest of his nights and the rest of his days and he doesn't want Jared to think he doesn't like him.

But he's shielding him, right? From the disaster that dating him is? Yeah. That's totally justified.

"Yeah," Richard mumbles, sad and unconvincing. Jared feels a pang in his chest. It could have happened. Fuck.

Jared's hand leaves his cheek and he's never felt more deprived of anything in his entire life. This is unfair. 

(Stupid brain, it's all your fault. I wanna tell him how I feel. Why can't you just let me tell him how I feel? UGH! So what if it doesn't work out? This is why you keep fucking things up and missing out on opportunities! Because you fucking... ball into yourself. And you get so shaky and nervous and self-deprecating that you can't even allow yourself one good thing without thinking you're gonna ruin it. Fuck. Fuck you, brain. I shouldn't feel like this. I shouldn't have to make myself feel like this. I wanna die. And kiss Jared. And die. And puke. Oh, God, I can't do this.)

And again, Richard leans over the edge of the rock and throws up.

It's more than usual. Today was a food-heavy day. He wishes he hadn't shared those nachos with Dinesh earlier. Because the hard corners of the tortilla chips are scratching his throat and he feels woozy and the taste of previously ingested plastic cheese is not particularly kind on the palate. 

He detects Jared's hand on his back, rubbing softly. "It's okay," Jared whispers, carefully treading his fingers through Richard's curls. "Let it out, let it out."

Richard wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs a few times, spitting out the remnants of non-saliva. Richard doesn't want to listen to his brain anymore. To the stupid part of his brain. This is so much more difficult than he ever realized it could be. It's terrifying. 

He rests himself against Jared, mouth feeling gross and dry. His head is practically on Jared's chest, eyes closed with his eyebrows furrowed. "No," Richard says softly, not daring to open his eyes.

"No to what?" Jared asks, hopeful.

"Not a mistake. I. I don't think. I mean. I-- I- don't know. I'm confused," Richard stumbles out, voice squeaky and hesitant. But Jared's mouth curls into a little smile. 

"That's okay," he responds, for a lack of better words. "What are you confused about? Let's talk it out." 

Richard breathes heavier, his chest puffing up and down. Jesus Christ. This is so horrible. This is so horrible. "Jared, I-- I-" (I've never felt this way before and I'm scared that I'm going to do things that hurt you every day and you're just gonna take it because I'm an asshole and you're so undoubtably selflessly kind. I've never liked a guy the way I like you and I don't even know how that's possible. I wanna kiss you every single time I see your stupid, long face. I feel trapped. No way out.) "I can't. I-- I can't. I'm- I'm sorry. I don't... I'm--"

"Would it help if I talked first?" Jared offers, resting a hand on Richard’s shoulder.

Richard bites down on his lips. “Maybe. Maybe. I don't know. I-- I- just. I can't. Do this.”

“I liked it when you kissed me,” Jared starts, playing with the strings of Richard’s hoodie, “I… I mean. I’m sure you know that. How could I not?” 

“Hm,” Richard grunts out, just to let Jared know he's listening.

“When you said you were sorry… I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to force you into anything. I’ve lived this many years not being allowed to kiss you. I never thought it would change. And if it hasn't, that's okay. If you don't want to do anything at all, that's okay. I just. When we do this… under the stars. Talking for hours. It makes it harder to emotionally distance myself from you.” He tucks a curl behind Richard’s ear, petting his hair softly. Richard can acknowledge himself shaking. This doesn't feel real. “You must know by now, right? How much I like you?”

Richard scrunches his face in, shaking his head as he sits up and gets out of Jared’s touch. He can't stand being touched for another second, another minute. He feels so horribly riled up and terrifyingly dubious. (His brain is trying to convince him that everything Jared is saying is a lie to make Richard feel better.) “What… what do you mean?”

(Monica’s words ring in his ears.)

“Oh, Richard,” Jared laughs soft, staring at Richard a couple of feet across from him, “I’m in love with you.”

Richard can’t breathe.

Oh.

It all happens so fast but he’s having a panic attack now -- the tightness of his chest making everything else feel so big. Much too big. He wants to die. He lays down on the rock and he wants to die.

Jared is lying for some reason. They're making it all up. It's an elaborate scheme. There is no way something is going completely right. He can't believe it. He doesn't think he should. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve Jared. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

He’s so lightheaded, fingers cramping in a curled position as he tries his best, his very best, to keep it all under control. To stop this. To not look like this right now. 

In love. In love. In love.

Fucking hell. Richard is pretty sure this is a heart attack. Where is that fucking doctor when you need him?

Jared is sitting next to him, whispering words of assurance through a screen of dissociation. Richard can’t even open up a fucking fist. It's exhausting. He's exhausted.

It isn't until thirteen minutes later that Richard can calm himself back down. Until he's sitting with his knees to his chest, counting in and out. In and out. 

It isn't until twenty minutes later that he finally looks at Jared again. His eyes are wet, apologetic and scared. “‘M sorry,” Richard whispers, wiping his tears, “It’s-- I mean. It wasn't. It's not like that. I just. It's a lot. I can't. I just don't know… what to do. I don't know. Heh. Uhhhh.”

“You don't have to do anything at all, Richard. If you want it all to go back to normal, tell me. I’ll make sure it all feels normal.” Richard waves his hands signaling no, coughing up some dry sobs. 

“No. No. Jared. That's not fair. You're not-- your life isn't like, some kinda puppeteer show. You don't have to… pretend.” He takes a deep breath. “I. Jared. I like you. Too. And I just. I don't know, heh, I… It’s so. It's so new.”

Jared tries his best not to look giddy. “It's okay. Richard, look at me.” Richard looks up, teary eyed and scared, “We’ll figure it out.”

“How do you know that? I mean. Like. I’m a fuckin’ mess. I. I’m not… not good at this. Gonna make you sad.” Jared smiles, shaking his head.

“I will deal with all your broken parts. I love you with them, not despite them.” Richard wipes his tears from his eyes again. Oh. He feels like a big fucking baby. 

“You have to promise. Jared. You have to promise me that… that if it all gets-- like-- fucked up. Or… bad. You have to promise that you’ll leave. Or that we'll talk. Don't let me… don't let me do bad things to you. I don't want to. And, y’know, you don't deserve that.” He holds out his pinky shakily, and Jared hooks it immediately, tears brimming in his eyes. “Are we… gonna… like, do this? For real?”

Jared laughs a little, the sound sweet and gentle. “Yes. Yes, I think we are.” Richard chuckles nervously, and he wants to kiss Jared again but he just threw up and that literally just would not be fair. 

“Telescope?” Richard asks, smiling through his shakiness. Jared gets up from his spot and extends a hand to Richard, helping him get up. 

He flashes a smile, nodding. “Absolutely.”


	6. bearing my body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jared gets to see richard. really, really see richard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boys exploring each other
> 
> tw: self harm references, mentions of suicidal ideation

"Uh, sorry, heh," Richard chuckles, maneuvering his body around Jared's long limbs to press soft kisses against his mouth. Their knees are knocking, arms awkward around each other just like they are in everyday life. Richard's lips smack, wet and supple, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. (You're doing it wrong. This is not okay. He doesn't like this.) Jared wraps a hand strong into Richard's curls, the other resting on the back side of his neck.

Richard does not know what to do with his hands. They're currently curled against his own chest as he lays half on top of Jared, his legs tangled into Jared's awkwardly. He has no experience. God, how embarrassing. Jared's mouth is so sweet and his hands feel so warm and all he can do is push back against his mouth slightly, breathing heavy through his nose. He decides to experiment, weaving his hand against Jared's cheek. Jared gasps against Richard's mouth, breathing. It makes Richard feel like he's floating.

He urges Jared's mouth open with his tongue, experimenting again. They haven't done this a lot. Tongue. Uh. Richard is certain he's doing this wrong but it doesn't even really matter because it's all really, very hot. Jared's hands pulling at his hair and his tongue scrolling against his own. Jared's little gasps, soft whines. Oh. Oh. Richard wants to keep kissing Jared forever. Tongue is good. Tongue feels good. They disconnect their mouths, keeping them open against one another's. The hot breath against the corners of his mouth is making Richard queasy. It's like Jared is a gift that can never, ever stop giving. 

And then Jared reaches his hand to stroll down to Richard's hips. And everything moves a little bit too fast then.

Richard shocks up, quickly scrambling off of Jared and staring at him with shocked, big eyes. Too much, too much, too much. His breathing is heavy and he's laying on the floor now in front of Jared's couch and he's about to cry. Oh, he's about to cry. "I- I-- I'm sorry!" Richard screeches, turning red.

Jared chuckles, shaking his head. He smoothes his sweater and sits up, smiling down at Richard. "No, no, don't be sorry. You control the pace. I should have asked," Jared says soft, his eyes wonderfully genuine. Richard takes a deep breath.

God, three weeks of dating and he still can't even let Jared touch his fucking body. Pathetic. So slow.

"I mean it." Richard sits up against the couch, head in his hands. "Your pace. I'm here for you."

Richard whimpers, looking up. "God. I-- I- feel. So stupid. Like. It's not a big deal. It's not. I just. I get so scared. Cuz. I-- I- don't want to do it wrong."

Jared sighs lovingly, sitting down next to Richard on the ground. "It's okay to do things wrong, sunflower," he whispers, kissing the top of Richard's head. "We'll figure it out. We're figuring it out."

"Yeah, yeah, I. I just. Wish that I could give you _that_. Now. I'm sorry that I can't." Jared shakes his head, wrapping and arm softly around Richard's shoulder. Richard rests his shoulder on his, sighing.

"I can wait. Don't you dare apologize, silly. I love you." Richard can't get used to it. The L word. It makes him feel so wonderful and fuzzy inside every single time. 

(Jared loves me. Jared loves me. Hm. That's nice.)

Richard snuggles into Jared's side, whispering, "Hm. Okay."

\---

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jared asks softly, sitting on a chair in front of Richard. Richard is sitting on Jared's bed, anxiously biting down on his bottom lip.

Richard nods, rubbing his eyes. "I- Yes. I mean. I think. It would be- it might be good. For me. Us."

Jared nods, smiling, and Richard takes a deep, preparatory breath before zipping down his hoodie and shrugging it off of his shoulders. Jared crosses his legs, sitting back. He wants to make Richard feel as comfortable as possible through this all. He has to.

Richard read a blog. A blog about getting to be more comfortable with your sexuality. There were a few things that he's already done; masturbated in Jared's bed alone, looked at himself naked in the mirror, told Jared how terrified he was of looking too ugly for him. The next on the list? Get naked and let your partner talk to you. By purposes of getting more comfortable with being a living body that has human anatomy that isn't inherently sexual. He just needs Jared to see him. He has to. 

He takes a deeper breath when he pulls at the bottom of his white t-shirt, rushing it quickly over his head.

(Mistake. This is a mistake. Your body looks so strange. Gah. He's gonna be so disappointed. Or maybe it'll just confirm the shit he doesn't want to admit to himself about you. So weird looking.)

He throws it aside. Jared's face is red, shy smile across his lips. First time seeing Richard shirtless. He looks so sweet and curved. His slouched body feels like a treat to Jared. He just wants to stare all day.

Richard squeezes his eyes shut. The pants. Oh. The pants are the biggest thing. Well. The underwear is, he supposes, but the pants are scary too. Because he's wearing briefs. 

And his thighs are sprawled with old self harm scars that have failed to fade in time for this very experience. (Some are from just less than two years ago. It scares him that Jared is going to see. Nobody ever has. Richard _always_ keeps his boxer shorts covering his thighs during sex.) He undoes the button of his jeans with shaky hands, eyebrows furrowed. Jared looks away, realizing that his gaze probably feels burning right now. 

Slowly, he pulls his jeans to his ankles. Oh. It's so scary, it's so scary. His eyes are still closed when he's kicking them off of his feet. His breath is so incredibly shaky. God. What is he gonna say? Oh, he's about to start crying. He doesn't even know how he wants Jared to react. He doesn't know if he wants him to kiss his scars and love him endlessly or if he wants Jared to completely ignore them or if he wants him to worry for him, and hold him while he starts to cry. 

He opens his eyes and sees Jared's sad, understanding smile. (It's okay. It's okay. I understand. You're okay.) Richard bites back a sob.

He pulls his briefs down, kicking them off of his feet. His face is so red, body feeling absolutely fuming. He's naked. He's naked in front of somebody and it's willing and open and he's not hiding his body for _once_ and he feels so horribly uncomfortable.

"Well," Richard whispers, low, "this... this- is me. Heh."

There's several deep scars on his upper right thigh, horizontally across. Jared leans forward a bit. He strolls over them sadly, a few raised and still red, most white and almost blended into his regular skin. Richard sniffles. "Oh, Richard," Jared whispers soft, grabbing Richard's shaking hand and kissing it softly, "You're beautiful."

Richard laughs with tears in his eyes. 

"How long have you been clean?" Jared's voice is a dream, but Richard cringes at the words. Nobody, aside from condescending and competitive assholes on Tumblr when he was a teenager trying to stop cutting, has ever asked him that. 

"Oh. Uhm. I don't know. Over a year. Bit more. Maybe. I think." Jared's smile is indescribable. A perfect blend of understanding and caution and love. He stares up at Richard's fearful face and presses a kiss to his cheek, tears in his eyes. 

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers, hand moving from Richard's thigh to his cheek, strolling his thumb over his flushed face. "Thank you for trusting me."

Richard squeezes his eyes closed, curling into himself. "Yes. Yeah. I... You're the only one. That knows. Or... well, has seen. So. Thank you. For not... being mad." Jared laughs a little, shaking his head. He presses a kiss to Richard's mouth. 

"Gosh, of course not. I would never be mad at you for coping. For trying." Richard can't help himself. 

He hugs Jared. He wraps his arms around the back of Jared's neck and pushes him closer and hugs him. It's awkward, a bit, and it's much too loose of a hug, not happy, but grateful. Jared embraces back, peppering kisses on Richard's shoulder. It's so intimate. And beautiful. And Richard can not believe how good it actually feels.

"I love your arms," Jared whispers, still in the hug, "and your stomach," he pulls away, smiling softly, "and I love your legs. And your ears. And... and your smile. I love your body."

Richard takes a deep breath in, tear streaming down his left cheek. He's a little embarrassed, wiping it away immediately. "Thank you," he mutters, face completely red. 

"Every single day, I realize how incomplete my life was before you." Jared strolls his thumb across Richard's kneecap, tears in his eyes. He lets them roll down his cheeks. "I... It was so difficult to breathe without feeling like... I was taking up too much. So difficult. And then you gave me a place to be. God, Richard, you inspire me every single day. I can not believe how lucky I am. So lucky."

Richard chuckles happily, cheeks wet with tears. Jared wipes them away softly before reaching to stroll his fingers over Richard's shoulders. "Gah, I feel. I feel like a big baby. Hm."

Jared's smile is addictive and Richard never wants to find out what withdrawal feels like.

"I'm a big baby, too," Jared points out, kissing Richard soft and wet, "I love you. Beautiful, beautiful boy."

Richard feels his shoulders push back slightly, opening himself up to the judgement that comes with being vulnerable. Jared’s hands are all over him now, but in such a gentle and loving and non-selfish way that Richard almost feels like he’s the only person alive. There’s a touch on the back of his neck, the crook of his arm, the bend in his knee. And then there’s kisses being pressed against his calves, down to his feet, and it’s all so _gentle_ and _loving_ and _non-selfish._

And Richard supposes that that was the moment where it really clicked. This was all meant to happen. Every painful second of his life was meant to happen.

(It includes the nights in Tulsa where he stayed up and cried while his parents fought downstairs. It includes the day he tried to overdose but just woke up the next morning with a horrible stomach ache and pounding head pain. It includes those afternoons in the schoolyard where he got teased for being bad at soccer and bad at talking. And then there’s all those little times that he had to struggle with Pied Piper. Where he had to decide whether to compromise his integrity or provide his friends a living wage. God, it even includes the painful second after he kissed Jared for the first time and believed he had to cut himself in order to stop feeling like _this_. It includes showing Jared who he is and what he looks like and what he hates about himself.)

He starts to cry. And Jared’s tucking him sweetly into the bed, patting his curls while singing a Bon Jovi song into his ear like it’s a fucking lullaby. 

It’s all he could have ever wanted.

\---

“We’re out of oat milk,” Richard groans, eating his Frosted Flakes with the aid of the last bit of almond milk Jared had left in the fridge. “I’ll run by the store to grab some later.”

Jared smiles, plating up two eggs and a slice of gluten free toast for himself. “We’ll go together,” he says simply, an apron hanging off of him. (Richard wants to see Jared in an apron every single day. He looks so in his element). 

Richard nods, agreeing, and then contorts his face anxiously. “Hey, so. Uh. Do you think… we should tell the guys? Y’know. ‘Bout us?” Richard stumbles, gazing up to gauge Jared’s reaction to the proposition.

“Well, yes, of course. If you’re ready for it.” He takes a bite from his toast and presses a kiss to Richard’s temple. 

“Yeah. I mean. Yeah. I think so. Tired of… sneaking around,” Richard mumbles with a mouth full of cereal. “Wanna… heh. I wanna show you off.”

Jared turns red, his hand reaching to lay on top of Richard’s, thumbing at his knuckles. He reaches their hands up to his mouth and presses a smooth kiss to Richard’s hand. 


	7. richard hendricks would like to be able to 'do' feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's scared that Richard has changed his mind. 
> 
> That there was some type of temporary domestic bliss when Richard had suggested they tell them over an exchange of grocery list items. Some type of temporary domestic bliss that is completely gone now. 
> 
> Jared still feels it, God, he does. But he's so scared that Richard doesn't anymore.

Jared finds himself doing worse.

He doesn't exactly know why, but everything seems a bit more difficult for him. For them, really.

After Richard told him that they'd tell the guys, they kinda… sorta… never did. 

Not even after a month had passed. Every time Jared would ask when they would (which had only been three times), Richard got defensive and angry. He'd refuse to answer. They were always too busy. Or it was too nice laying in bed. 

He's scared that Richard has changed his mind. 

That there was some type of temporary domestic bliss when Richard had suggested they tell them over an exchange of grocery list items. Some type of temporary domestic bliss that is completely gone now. 

Jared still feels it, God, he does. But he's so scared that Richard doesn't anymore.

It's the way he talks to him, now. Short and frank, giving him tasks to keep him further away. Even when they're laying in Jared’s bed late at night, Richard turns his back to Jared. Even when they're waking up together, and his fingers are rubbing Richard’s scalp softly and lovingly, Jared feels ignored. 

He doesn't know if it's him or if it's Richard or if it's both of them, and he doesn't know how to ask. 

(He actually has a lot of ideas on how to ask. “Hey, you've been distant lately, are you feeling okay?” “Richard, I know physical affection is difficult for you, so I really would just like to sit down and try to talk about our feelings so that I can gauge your level of engagement in our relationship,” Because he's worried. He's worried that Richard is doing bad again and that being in a relationship is simply too much right now. But he's also worried that there's nothing going on and that Richard is maybe actually trying very hard to be active in their relationship and Jared asking him why he's being distant will be completely condescending and rude.)

He walks into Richard’s office with a turkey sandwich, ready to give it a try, but when Jared walks in, Richard doesn't even look up. His headphones are pressed tightly against his ears and he's fumbling with the keys, eyebrows furrowed deep. He places the plate down and stands right behind the laptop, hoping to get some notice.

Richard's eyes cock up, and he takes his headphones off quickly. “Yeah? Hi, Jared, hey,” Richard mumbles, picking up the plate next to him. He mumbles like they haven't kissed, like they haven't seen each other beautifully vulnerable. “Thanks you. Thanks, I mean. Yeah. Bye, sorry. I have a lot of… work to do. So. Yeah.”

Jared stares at him with his beautifully hurt and scared eyes, giving a sad nod. “Aye, aye.”

He cries as soon as he gets back to his office. 

\---

He decides to text him.

_Can we talk tonight? Xo, Jared_

Richard replies after twenty-two entire minutes of leaving Jared on read.

_i cant come over tonight_

_Ok. I’ll come to yours._

_could we talk some other day? busy tonight_

Jared inhales deep but types out, _No problem!_ Because he can't push Richard. He shouldn't. 

\---

He tries again a week later, dropping into Richard’s office after hours with a soft smile on his face. Richard looks up immediately, his tired eyes drooping. 

Everybody has gone home, basically, but Richard is still here. 

“Hey,” Richard mutters, closing his laptop, “I was just about to head out.”

“Wait,” Jared starts, sitting down across from Richard, “Are you… feeling okay? I've just been noticing some changes in your mood, diet and sleeping schedule and I… I just want to see if there's anything I can do. To help.”

Richard scratches the back of his head. (He's been through this so many times, somebody asking him if he's okay. Lying seems easier than the truth.) “Yeah, yeah, I'm good, Jared. Thank you.” Richard walks over, settling down next to Jared and leaning against him softly. Probably the most affection he's shown in a few days. 

“It's okay if you're not,” Jared whispers back, “you know that, right?”

Richard squeezes his eyes closed. (No. I don't know that. And you saying that feels like a lie.) He murmurs an agreement, nodding against Jared’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Y’know. That, uh, I’ve been distant.” 

Jared’s entire body collectively breathes a sigh of relief. “That's alright.”

“I mean, it's not. It's not. Fair. To you, Jared.” He rests his hand on Jared’s knee. Jared’s heart is beating out of his chest. Talking feels so much better than keeping it all in. Keeping it all in could kill someone. 

And Richard’s posture is so incredibly vulnerable, like he's genuinely afraid. So genuinely afraid. Jared figures that his anxiety is very prominent; the talking about his feelings, the confronting his flaw, the physical affection. But he's never seen Richard looking quite this… _hopeless._

“Maybe so. But, you need your time. And space. And I could've asked you sooner. I think we just need to work on trying to communicate our feelings.” Jared wraps his hand around Richard’s, holding it in his own softly. “Because maybe then, we won't be so afraid of the reaction.”

“It's just so…. so… _unfair,_ ” Richard cringes, soothing Jared’s skin with his thumb, “That, like, you're like this. And… and… I’m like _this_. Like… fuck. It's just been bugging me lately.”

Jared frowns, resting his head atop Richard’s and trying to keep his breath steady because, well, was that an insult? “What has?”

“How you can, just, uh-- even… like me. And I just can't stop thinking about it and thinking about it and it feels like this… this huge bug in my brain that I can't fucking solve. I… Jared-- I’m not good for you. Not good enough. You need someone, no, you should have someone, who, like, can show you how wonderful love is. And… and… someone who is just perfect because _you_ are, too, God, you are, and I… I-- Just. I feel so bad. About. Like. Forcing you to be stuck with me. Me. Can barely… fuckin’... talk. Push myself away,” Richard takes a long breath after his self deprecating speech. And Jared has a silly little smile on his face because Richard is so incredibly wrong.

Jared lifts Richard’s chin so that they're looking right at each other. He notices the tears in Richard's eyes. All he wants to do is suck out all the sadness inside of him. He plants a daft kiss on Richard’s bitten lips, blushing. 

“I’m not perfect, Richard,” Jared assures him, stroking his cheek with his free hand, “And I love you for reasons that are beyond the English language. I love you because you… you give me this feeling inside. Of… of hope. And safety. Like I can rest easy because I have you. Because I know you.”

Richard kisses him this time, eager and soft at the same time. He needs it. “You are more than good enough, Richard Hendricks. I promise. It's… it's just anxiety.”

“Fuckin’ anxiety,” Richard mumbles against Jared’s mouth, pecking between words, “Are you sure? Are you sure I’m enough? Jared, Jared… I want you. I need you to tell me. If-- I mean. I mean, if I block you out. Tell me I’m being a dick, okay?” 

“You weren't being a dick--”

“I kinda was,” Richard whispers back, smile on his lips, and Jared concedes by kissing him again.

“Maybe a little. But it's justified.” 

Richard falls against Jared’s shoulder, nudging into his neck. “But you're definitely enough. Richard, I've been in love with you for years. This is… any version of this is… something I never thought I could enjoy.”

His mouth quirks up at hearing Jared tell him he's in love. In love. Jared's in love with him. 

(It makes him feel kinda very smiley.)

“Let's- uh- let's go get some food. My treat,” Richard suggests, squeezing Jared’s hand. Jared’s heart feels full. Kindly full. “Thanks for- uh- sitting down with me. Talking to me.”

Jared smiles, nodding gratefully. “Thank you for responding. I appreciate you trying to talk about your feelings, I know it's difficult.”

Richard gets up first, still holding Jared’s hand. “You make it a little easier.”

\---

They go back to the diner.

Elaine and Betty are on shift again, and Jared makes lovely small talk with them as they slide into one of the many available booths. 

“I see you boys finally got together,” Betty enounciates, pouring Richard a cup of coffee. Richard turns red, staring back at Jared so he doesn't have to answer. 

Jared recognizes the look; unneeded anxiety. So he simply leans over a bit and brushes his hand over Richard’s knuckles, smiling. “Yes. I suppose we did.” Richard takes a sip from his coffee eagerly, terrified to let himself show emotion in front of people he doesn't really quite know. 

But Betty simply smiles, lights up, and puts a hand to her heart. “Thank God. Elaine and I were starting to think of ways to _force_ you together.” She laughs, getting out her writing pad. “What can I get ya?”

To Jared’s surprise, Richard speaks. “Gluten free banana walnut pancakes? To share?” It’s phrased much more as a question, to whom Jared doesn't really know, because it would be an absolute privilege to share banana walnut pancakes with Richard.

“Sounds good to me!” Jared chirps, smiling ear to ear. 

There’s a beat of silence as Betty walks away with their order, and Richard thinks he’s definitely done something to mess it up. He’s sure of it. Ordering something to share was stupid, wasn’t it? Oh, he’s treating Jared so poorly--

“I’ve started knitting recently,” Jared says then, and Richard quirks a curious eyebrow up, ignoring his past thoughts. He takes a sip of his water and nods excitedly. “Once I get a bit better, I’ll make you something.”

“Oh, you-- you really don’t have to, Jared,” Richard wiggles in his seat, retrieving his hand from under Jared’s and shoving them both underneath of his thighs, shifting his weight anxiously. 

“Darling, I want to.” Richard gulps. “Unless it would overwhelm you. Then I won’t.”

He thinks about it for a second, because the idea of getting a handmade clothing item from Jared is beyond endearing. And he would get to see Jared knit constantly. Get to see his long fingers wrapped around those big knitting needles, get to see him relaxed and calm. And happy as soon as he gives it to Richard. 

“Nah. You should. If you want. I… I’d like that. I think.” 

Jared doesn’t want to get too excited. There’s a chance this’ll all get fucked up again, like everything in his life does, and he’s not getting too excited. He’s not. But he’s still happy. 

Just as the pancakes arrive, they both get a text in the company group chat, which is basically just Dinesh about 75% of the time, writing:

_COMPANY PARTY HAPPENINGGGG JARED AND RICHARD WHERE ARE YOU >:-(_

Followed by Gilfoyle’s:  
 _It’s not a party. We’re just hanging out at the house. Dinesh is drunk._

Neither of them really know how to respond. So… they don’t.

They talk about stupid, stupid things (Richard’s favorite PC games, Jared’s favorite albums, Richard’s least favorite age (15, by the way), Jared’s least favorite flowers) while finishing off all three pancakes together. Richard goes in for two more cups of coffee. Jared even asks for a glass of orange juice.

And they’re about to checkout as it turns to midnight, but Betty tells them sweetly, “this one’s on me,” and of course they don’t let her get away with it.

Richard leaves thirty dollars on the table and Jared draws himself holding up a heart on one of the napkins. It’s enough to make a grown man cry. And as they’re heading back to the hostel, Jared does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long ! i've been super unmotivated :c buttttt im back c:


	8. loving someone who's broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They usually wake up entangled with sweaty limbs and sour morning breaths that should provide an unpleasant experience. But neither of them can imagine anything more freeing.
> 
> Despite their happiness, Richard thinks about it a lot. Being afraid to love Jared.

Richard spends his nights at Jared’s more often than not nowadays.

They usually wake up entangled with sweaty limbs and sour morning breaths that should provide an unpleasant experience. But neither of them can imagine anything more freeing.

Despite their happiness, Richard thinks about it a lot. Being afraid to love Jared. 

(And it’s not anything Jared is doing wrong. Because he’s doing everything exactly right. He gives Richard the space he needs, but he challenges his constant being alone. He holds him when he desires, and doesn’t force him when he doesn’t want it. He kisses him soft and sweet and full of love before they walk out of the door and get ready for their office facade. It’s just that Richard is so bewildered that Jared could ever love him that he almost has to believe it’s not real in order to convince himself that it is.)

(Like, this is Jared. Sweet, attractive, smart, capable, strong, weird little Jared. Loving Jared will destroy Jared. Richard knows that he is not a fun person to be loved by. Thinks that he can’t possibly be a fun person to be loved by.)

Sometimes it fades away; the anxiety of it all. This is usually when his head’s in Jared’s lap and Jared reads his obscure historical facts, or reads him an E-book. It’s when Richard is thinking so much about how nice it feels to have his nose pressed against Jared’s sweater and how nice it is to feel Jared’s hands trailing through his curls. When he’s too busy enjoying it all. 

He’s never enjoyed it. Relationships. He always had to work so hard to make them last, never a moment of fleeting joy to be found, but it’s somehow different with Jared. 

(It’s definitely because Richard is in love. He’s never been in love. But he can’t possibly admit that to himself.)

“Richard, darling?” Jared calls from under the shower.

Richard doesn’t look up from his laptop, trying to anxiously respond to a party invite, “Yeah?” He shouts back, trying to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry to bother, but could you maybe get me a towel? There’s fresh ones on the bed, I think. I totally forgot.” He sounds so horribly apologetic. Richard finds himself smiling ( _weird_ , he thinks, _usually doing things for somebody would annoy me_ ), and getting up faster than usual. He prances towards the bedroom and finds three folded towels, snatching one of them and walking into the bathroom.

The shower screen is fogged up, so Richard confirms his presence by coughing and saying, “On the sink!”

When he sits back down on the couch, he feels good. That was nice. Sweet. Normal.

And then he feels himself break inside.

(Oh, that was the only time you ever get to be normal like that. Richard, you’re not this person. You don’t like to help. You’re selfish and greedy and you just _need, need, need_. You can’t love him. Richard, if you love him, he’s going to be miserable for the rest of his life. Don’t you dare fucking do that to him.)

He takes a breath in and gets out his phone. They’ve established a new method. Richard texts Jared about what’s bothering him if Jared is unavailable, or if talking in person just feels like too much. It’s helped with their communication.

He drafts his text to Jared.

_i’m scared that this isn’t going to work. because of me._

He doesn’t send it.

Because what if Jared thinks that’s a breakup text? It’s not. Oh, it’s not at all. It’s an “I-want-to-date-you-so-bad-I’ll-change-everything-about-myself-for-you” text. It’s a plea. _Leave me if I hurt you. Please. Please. I don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t have to put up with me._

He shuts off his phone and bites down on the skin around his thumb. This is bad. This is a thought loop. A stupid, stupid thought loop. He doesn’t even want to think about Jared anymore because he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up just thinking about his beautiful face. And his soft voice. And his hands, God, his _hands._

Richard closes his eyes and lays back on the couch, trying to breathe steadily. 

_There is nothing wrong with feeling like this._

_It’s okay to be scared._

_It’s okay to feel like you’re not enough._

_But it’s not true._

Jared’s words.

From a week ago. Richard remembered them because they helped. Imagining Jared saying them to him again is the only thing that fucking helps. 

He takes a deep breath. The shower isn’t running anymore. And he’s not afraid to see Jared step out of the door. He’s looking forward to it. His Jared.

\---

It’s a random day when Richard decides he’s ready to tell them.

Just a regular Tuesday. He calls Monica, Gilfoyle and Dinesh in for a meeting and paces around his office. Jared’s not there; Richard doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

“So, uh, Gilfoyle, Dinesh, you guys have… probably been wondering where I’ve been lately,” Richard starts, twiddling his thumbs. He looks up and sees three confused faces. Okay. Guess they haven’t been wondering.

“Not really,” Dinesh answers quickly, shrugging.

Gilfoyle glances over. “Me neither.”

Richard turns red. This is stupid. He doesn’t have to say anything.

He scratches the back of his neck and sits down at his chair, rocking from side to side. “Uh, okay, well, so, basically. I’ve been, uh-- spending a lot of time, like, away from the incubator.” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles, staring down in an angry focus. 

“And. Uh. It’s because, for like, the past, like, four... five months? Argh. I should know the exact date. Uh. Anyway. I’ve been. Uh. With somebody. In a relationship. And… I’m spending a lot of time. At their place.” He gauges their reaction. Completely blank-faced, aside from a much too excited Monica. 

“Okay?” Dinesh sputters, “this is a meeting where Richard shoves it in my face that I don’t have a lady?”

Richard scoffs, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, I mean, I don’t, either. I-- Uh. I don’t. I’ve been spending a lot of time at… gah, at _his_ place,” Richard stutters out, completely red-faced.

Dinesh furrows his eyebrows. “Okay, so this is a meeting where Richard comes out to us? Great job?”

Richard groans, shaking his head again. “No! Ugh, Dinesh-- I-- I’m _telling you_ because it’s… because-- it’s _Jared_. I’m dating. Dating _Jared._ ”

Gilfoyle crosses his arms smugly while Monica smiles happily, giving Richard a thumbs up. And Dinesh just looks a tad bit pissed off. 

“Well. Who’s surprised?” Gilfoyle panders.

Dinesh gets up. “I have a lot of work to do. That doesn’t include talking about our CEO and COO canoodling together.”

Richard rests his forehead against the desk, heart beating through his chest. Monica pats his arm kindly. “Ignore him. Thanks for telling us.”

He waves them goodbye vaguely and immediately texts Jared.

_i just told dinesh gilfoyle and monica_

The reply is nearly instantaneous.

_Told them what, sunshine?_

_about us_

_Really?_

Richard reads it in Jared’s voice and almost cries. He imagines his hopeful glacier-like eyes and his puppy-dog happiness.

_really._

And then there’s Jared’s Bitmoji (which almost looks more like Jared than Jared does), celebrating by hugging a red heart. 

_Does that mean I can come to your office and give you a kiss?_

Richard chuckles, turning red.

_sure jared, if u want_

_On my way! :-) xxx_

Jared practically falls into his arms just a minute later as he lays a kiss against Richard’s mouth, proud and open. “I’m proud of you,” Jared breathes against Richard’s cheek as he peppers the rest of his face with pecks. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richard laughs, wrapping his arms around Jared’s waist and pulling him a little closer. He knows at least some people must see them right now. With his huge office of glass walls. But he really doesn’t care. Oh, for once in his fucking life, Richard’s doesn’t really care. “Love you.”

Jared leans back, staring at Richard with wide and excited eyes. Richard fumbles with the back of Jared’s vest, shyly staring down between them. “Oh, I love you too, Richard.” Jared’s eyes tear up as he presses his mouth against Richard’s swiftly. “So much, angel.”

There's this little moment of fear when Richard hears the words stumble out of Jared’s mouth. 

(No, no, it can't be true. If I love him and he loves me, we have a reason to try and make this work. Even if it shouldn't. God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn't be in a relationship. Never. Never. Not even with Jared. Especially not with Jared.)

But then Jared's hand is warm against his cheek and it feels like _home_. And Richard figures that it’s all going to be okay. Jared will make it all okay. 

He smiles up at Jared, arms still wrapped tight around his waist. “Work here with me today,” he mumbles, feeling so horribly lucky. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

They work in Richard's office together for the rest of the day, stealing glances when they can, sharing the space like it's always been both of theirs. 

When they get back to Jared’s condo, Richard lets himself relax. He puts his computer away and he turns off his phone and he just… gives in. Gives in to being in the moment. To being with Jared as honestly and purely as he possibly can. 

They make out, hungry and in love, on Jared’s much-too-small sofa and it's so incredibly perfect. Richard’s fingers in Jared’s hair. Jared pressing their clothed erections together. Richard gasping against Jared’s mouth, open and willing. He never wants it to end. Never wants it to get any harder than this because he has never felt more perfect than this. 

\---

The first time Jared tries to kiss Richard in the hostel around the other guys, he flinches away. 

The second time Jared tries to kiss Richard in front of the guys, Richard turns his head to ensure it's nothing more than a cheek peck.

The third time Jared tries to kiss Richard in the company of the guys, Richard gives in and smiles against his lips.

(Immediately gaining the following commentary: “Do that on your own time.” and “Okay. That just looks wrong.”)

Richard sticks his middle finger up at them and pecks Jared again, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbones. “Love you,” Richard mutters softly as he turns his attention back to his laptop.

Jared’s heart is full as he answers, “I love you, sunshine.”

Dinesh fakes gagging. Gilfoyle rolls his eyes. It’s all so incredibly expected that it nearly makes Richard burst out laughing. A chuckle will have to do.

\---

“A list?” Jared asks, bewildered, as he sips his morning tea. It’s a Saturday, meaning they can spend their time however they want. 

(And Jared’s never really enjoyed weekends, the time alone felt suffocating. He’s never liked spending time with himself and weekends just forced him to create distractions for himself. But he likes weekends with Richard. Oh, he loves weekends with Richard.)

Richard nods, poking at his eggs, “About… what we like about each other.”

The worry inside Jared’s chest is telling him it’s a horrible idea. His list will be so much longer than Richard’s. There is not enough to love about him to make an entire list. No way. He’ll just embarrass Richard for being unable to express his feelings clearly and he’ll make himself feel stupid for having a list that goes on for pages and pages.

“Oh, Richard, I don’t know,” Jared decides is an appropriate answer.

“W- why not?”

( _It’s because he doesn’t have enough things he likes about you to write a list, dumbass._ )

He picks at the skin around his thumb anxiously, not daring to look up at Jared. “Darling, I… I don’t know, I--”

Richard bites down on his lip and gets his phone out, typing a short message to Jared.

_would you not know what to write?_

Jared walks across the room to grab his phone and reads the message quickly, immediately shaking his head. He saunters back over to Richard, sitting down next to him at the breakfast bar, and holds his hand. “I would be afraid that… there wouldn’t be enough for _you_ to write,” he confesses slowly, ashamed of his insecurity, begging for validation.

“Uh- why? I mean. Like. I could… write essays. About why I like you. What I like about you. So. That shouldn’t… worry you.” Richard presses his thumb against Jared’s pointer finger, looking up at him. “But we- like. We don’t have to. I mean. Of course we don’t have to.”

His eyes are wide and -- Oh, Richard could write about loving me? -- surprised, and he leans in to press his mouth against Richard’s forehead. “Why would you like to?”

Richard turns red, coughing awkwardly to the side. His leg bounces as he mumbles out, “Well, I-- I mean. It would give me, us, a list of things that, uh, are, like, good about us. Like. A nice reminder. So that when. Uh. When we feel bad. We can just look at the… our list.” 

Jared finds himself smiling, reaching his thumb to stroke against Richard’s cheek. “Darling, let's make a list.”

They decide the best way to go about it is to start it now, but add to it for an entire week before handing them to each other. Just to observe natural behavior. To be reminded that Jared loves it when Richard ruffles his hair. To be reminded that Richard loves it when Jared perks up after hearing his name. 

(It's too good, Jared thinks, this is all too good. Historically, he's been treated like shit in every situation he's ever been in. This shouldn't be an exception. Yet somehow, it is. Somehow it is and Jared can't wrap his head around what he did correctly in his life to lead him to Richard Hendricks. To falling in love with Richard Hendricks.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done ! either one or two more chapters :P


	9. the only two people alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard’s breath trembles as he mumbles out, “Let's go out to… my little place. Sometime. Soon.” His leg bounces under the table. “Can't believe you… uh- that I… haven't brought you there yet.”
> 
> Jared smiles and nods, kissing Richard’s temple. “I’d be honored, lovely.”

Richard suggests it at work.

They're in the office, getting their shit together in the early, early, early hours of the morning for the big meeting with AT&T in just about two weeks. Richard’s been extra stressed. This would decide whether or not their platform actually scales. Would confirm if it could have international effects. Oh, Richard is fucking dying. He's sure.

Jared is rubbing his shoulders softly, whispering that it's alright to feel this way. That sometimes feelings deserve to be made a big deal of, and finding out if your company is going to be able to succeed long-term might be one of those feelings.

And it sucks, he admits, it sucks, but it's necessary. Coming to terms with and learning to accept negative feelings instead of suppressing them can be incredibly helpful in the long run.

Richard’s breath trembles as he mumbles out, “Let's go out to… my little place. Sometime. Soon.” His leg bounces under the table. “Can't believe you… uh- that I… haven't brought you there yet.”

Jared smiles and nods, kissing Richard’s temple. “I’d be honored, lovely.”

Richard takes one of Jared’s hands and presses a kiss to the top. “Tomorrow morning. Early. Wanna see the sunrise.”

“Perfect,” Jared responds, meaning it so much, as he leans his chin against Richard's shoulder and kisses his jaw, “Absolutely perfect.”

\---

Richard then spends a really long time getting ready.

And he never does that, oh, Jared is nervous that he wants to call the whole thing off.

In reality, Richard is in the bathroom, researching how to clean himself well enough to have penetrative sex. Wow, these articles are fucking specific.

He's so anxious. Maybe it's excitement? 

But then Jared knocks on the bathroom door at the hostel at three in the morning, asking if Richard is ready to go when he so horribly is not ready to go and he's pretty sure it's a mix of both.

“Ah! Uh- Jared, no, I'm sorry! A minute!” He yelps as he's just finished his stupid, _gross_ enema, wiping and feeling beautifully clean inside. He puts his underwear back on quickly, washing his hands for a straight minute before flushing. 

His plain grey tee and green hoodie follow shortly after and he slides the loosest pant he has over his thin legs. It's okay: It's all going to be okay. 

Sex with Jared in an open field. Oh. That's beautiful, isn't it? Oh, he's sure it is. But he's terrified that it won't be enough. He's made Jared wait so long.

(And Richard wanted it so horribly. Was so desperate for it, time and time again, but would get scared after getting hard underneath Jared while making out. He'd get nervous when Jared would palm him on top of his boxers until he came. Got terrified when he did the same to Jared. It was just so… new. The love and the deep, deep desire for everything to be perfect.)

“Take your time, love,” Jared says, albeit a bit anxiously, standing next to the door with his phone gripped in his hands. He's waiting for a text. For Richard to text him that he can't do it. That it's all a mistake.

Instead, Richard opens the door to the bathroom and creeps out shyly, blush scattered across his cheeks. His eyes are watery and wide and Jared is sure he can see his hands shaking before he puts them in the pockets of his hoodie. 

“Let's go,” he smiles. He quickly saunters to his room to pick up the picnic basket containing breakfast and lots of caffeine. 

They talk about Jared’s favorite edition of National Geo. on the way, and Richard gives his own input. It leads to a slightly longer tangent about how Richard once puked on his mom during Thanksgiving which reminds Jared of the time he almost defecated on himself in the movie theatre.

It feels so incredibly comfortable. Richard's shocked that this is even real life. 

And the playlist he made for Jared ages ago is softly playing in the background, from Joni Mitchell to The National. Jared hums along to some songs -- Richard sees it as a job well done.

Just as they step out of the car, clumsily squeeze through the hole in the fence and start to walk over to Richard's favorite spot, Richard reaches to intertwine their fingers, leaning against Jared softly.

“Jared?” He asks, soft and anxious.

“Yes, darling?”

He bites down on his lip and squeezes Jared’s hand, stopping them in the middle of the trail. “Would you… Would you maybe… want-- uh-- to… like…” He puts down the picnic basket and hesitantly makes a lewd penetrative gesture, cheeks flaming red. Jared looks away, shy and excited. “It's always… quiet up there. I've… never. Like. Seen anybody there. While I’m there. So. I just… I thought, maybe, like-- we could. But. If you don't want to. I understand. And, yeah, I mean-- I should've asked you earlier. Uh-- yeah. Ha. It's just. I… feel safe here. And I think it would be… like… quite nice.” The words just keep coming. He can't fucking stop them. He can barely see Jared in the dark, their flashlight shining down on the ground.

Jared takes a step forward and presses a kiss to Richard’s forehead. “I would be honored to copulate in that field with you.”

Richard chuckles, scrunching up his face. “Cool,” Richard chokes out, picking the basket back up and leading Jared up the path again. “Cool, nice. Yeah. Heh.”

\---

“No. No. I want you to,” Richard whispers, and Jared’s eyes sparkle. He looks down at Richard, laying on his back on their sunflower blanket. “Really. I really want you to.”

It's still a bit dark out, almost sunrise. They're in an open field but Richard isn't scared for a second. They're surrounded by nothing but beautiful forest green oak trees and long, uncut grass. There's flowers peeking through, bright and lively. 

Jared feels grateful to have this moment with him. He presses their mouths together, quickly working his tongue against Richard’s. There’s a quiet moan from Richard’s throat that travels all the way against Jared’s soft palate. It feels wonderful. To have this time with Richard. To have this love with Richard. 

He tests the waters, pressing his clothed crotch against Richard’s while they kiss. Richard gasps, losing all focus. His hands shoot to wrap around Jared’s neck, pulling him closer. “Ah, hah, ha. Jared,” he whimpers against his mouth, eyes wide and nervous as he feels his erection grow. 

“Is that okay? Do you like that?” Jared asks, making sure he’s not moving too fast, his voice against Richard’s lips. Richard whimpers and nods, digging his fingertips to Jared’s nape. 

(Usually getting Richard off is quick; one and done. On top of his boxers, humping, or grinding, or palming. And it's over before they know it. Jared genuinely can't believe that they're gonna get to take their time.)

“Gah. Yeah. Yes. I do. Hm,” Richard laughs, chills sending up and down his spine. He's scared. He's really, really, terribly scared. Not because he thinks Jared is going to hurt him. Or judge him. But because it’s all so true now. He can't turn back from this. 

(But then Jared’s mouth is pressed against his open neck and it's clear that he doesn't even want to turn back. That this is the way it's supposed to be.)

Richard lets out a faint moan, wrapping a leg around Jared’s waist. He rolls his body up, creating friction between their clothed hard-ons. And then Jared is sitting down on his pelvis, taking off his own t-shirt. And Richard wants to run his hands across his chest for years to come. Wants to drink water out of the divet just below his sternum. Wants to rest his head against his pecs and listen to his heart beat. 

“You can touch,” Jared says softly, as if reading Richard’s mind, and Richard immediately strolls his thumbs across Jared’s tender skin. He didn't see it before, but his fingertips pick up on the rough edges of several incredibly old cigarette burns. “2004. I can’t believe it’s still visible.” he smiles bitterly, leading Richard’s finger to rub at all four of the spots. They're almost blended together, stacked like olympic rings. Richard leans up.

Richard leans up and presses his mouth to the faint scars. He kisses four times, running his fingers across Jared’s back soothingly. “So strong, Jared,” Richard whispers lovingly, and suddenly Richard isn't afraid anymore. “You deserve love.”

Jared tears up. He can't help it. 

His arms wrap around Richard, locking kisses to his curls. “Oh, Richard.” He feels so special. So incredibly, tooth-rottingly special. Out here with Richard in an open field, shirtless, baring himself to the person he loves most in the world. 

“Don't know how you do it. So perfect.” Richard’s mouth is still pressed against Jared’s chest, words muffled by his warm skin. “Want you to know. Want you to know how beautiful you are. And. And. Special. So special, Jared.”

Jared smiles bright, tear falling down his cheek. And Richard sits back a little bit, allowing Jared to sit in between his thighs, facing him, with his legs wrapped around Richard’s side loosely. He meets Richard’s gaze. It's intoxicating.

Richard puts his hand to Jared’s clothed erection softly, smiling bright at him. Jared whimpers, taking a deep breath in as Richard plays with the zipper of his khakis. “So wonderful,” Richard whispers, sucking soft kisses across Jared’s shoulders while pulling down his pants and underwear to his thighs. The cold air hits Jared’s cock and it's almost too much for him to handle.

The sun is starting to come up, shades of vibrant oranges and yellows casting down on the both of them. It's angelic.

And then Jared feels Richard’s clammy hand around his erection, and he whimpers with such a small little voice. He feels like a person. A real, genuine person. “Lemme know. Uh. If… it feels weird. Or not good,” Richard says, staring over at Jared with wide eyes. Jared nods, his eyes much more focused on the beauty of Richard’s features under the upcoming sunlight than the way that his foot is brushing against the grass underneath them. Richard is tugging awkwardly, slow and focused, like he's trying to get a hang of it all. 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared whispers, voice high pitched as he clings against Richard tightly.

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Richard asks shakily as he pumps his hand a little faster, wrist rotating. Jared nods into Richard’s neck, pressing soft kisses to his skin. 

“Yes. Feels good,” Jared responds shakily, breath hot against Richard’s jaw. He bucks his hips up, getting desperately excited. His mouth falls open, moans muffled against Richard’s shoulder hopelessly. 

Richard sees Jared holding it all in. He wonders why, because he wants to hear every single sound Jared makes. He wonders why Jared won't allow himself to be unfiltered. “Lemme hear you, Jared,” Richard whispers soft, watching Jared’s shoulders shake. 

Jared whimpers, hesitantly moaning against Richard’s ear. His hand travels down Richard’s body to stop at his jeans, unbuttoning them without even looking. Richard is shaking. Positively shaking. This is all so much. So much. He's so close to Jared and Jared is so close to him and it's wonderful but it's also petrifying. 

But then Jared’s enormous, cold hand is wrapped tightly around his erection and Richard can't help but believe that it's all okay. 

“Argh-- Jared. Jared,” Richard mumbles, his chin hanging over Jared’s shoulder. He's already fucking himself into Jared’s hand, feeling so obscene. “Yeah. Fuck. Fuck. Jesus _Christ_ , your hands. Are. Are so sweet. Gah. Soft. Soft, I mean.”

Jared smiles. The little part in his brain that doesn't care about sounding stupid is coming awake. He likes that part.

“This is nothing, baby. Just wait until my cock’s inside of you,” he whispers against Richard’s ear, and Richard full-body shivers, whimpering against Jared’s strong shoulder.

“Jesus, Jared,” Richard cries, rutting against the hand wrapped around him. He loses all inhibitions, shooting his head back and moaning loud into the open air. Jared’s hand is so incredibly gentle and caring. “Ah. I… I want. You. Everywhere. Aahh.” It’s all so much different than anything he's ever felt. So much better. “C’mon, then. Fuck me. Ah. God. Please.”

Jared smiles against Richard’s open neck and sucks hard, burying his teeth to leave a loud mark. He pulls away and licks his lips, staring at his proud creation. “Yeah? Do you want me to fuck you, Richard?” He mutters, his voice deeper than usual. Oh, Richard feels himself going weak in the knees. He nods desperately, staring eye-to-eye with Jared. “Tell me. Ask me.” He lets go of Richard’s cock, ghosting his hand over his lower stomach underneath his t-shirt now. 

Richard whimpers, his hand still spastically jerking Jared off. “Gah. Uh. Jared. Please. Fuck me. Fuckin’ want you inside me. Please,” he whines, mouth open against Jared’s. Jared closes the gap, lips smacking softly as he pushes Richard back down onto the blanket. 

He's about to cry. Richard looks so beautiful like this. His saggy curls sprawled, barely reaching the grass below them. Richard’s out of breath, hands resting on either side of his head now. “Oh, baby. You're so pretty,” he mumbles, pushing a curl from Richard’s forehead. He turns red, turning his head to the side to hide his embarrassment. Jared reaches for the bottom of Richard’s shirt, quickly pulling it off. “Lift your bottom.”

Richard doesn't know why it makes him feel so humiliated. 

(Their pants follow quickly, and Richard is pretty sure that Jared took them off, but he's not quite sure. Their underwear was a collective effort.)

“I’m going to stretch you out a bit, okay? Make sure you're ready.” Richard nods desperately, flushed. “Would you like to lay on your stomach, or is--”

“No, no, this is good. I. I wanna… see you. Your face.” Jared smiles brightly, flattered and loved. He plants a soft kiss to Richard’s mouth and reaches for the lube in Richard’s jean pocket. “Is it gonna hurt?” He asks, eyes narrow in shame.

“It might hurt a little at first. Let me know how it feels and we’ll go from there, okay, baby?” Richard nods, taking a deep breath as he watches Jared lube up two of his fingers. This is really quite nerve-wracking. It feels like a lot when Jared presses his middle finger to his literal _asshole_. It feels like almost too much when the tip of Jared’s finger enters inside of him. Fuck. Fuck.

“Ah,” Richard mumbles, wrapping one leg around Jared’s shoulder. “Oh. I-- Hm. Jared. Jared.” 

“Does it hurt? Are you okay?” Jared asks, concerned and lovely and it makes Richard want to melt away. He shakes his head, bracing himself. 

“I’m good. I’m good. Feels new,” he shyly admits, arms now curled against his chest. Jared’s finger prods further, lubed and wonderful. Richard stares at Jared as he sticks his tongue out in focus, slowly pushing his finger in until it feels impossible to do more. Richard’s eyes squeeze closed. “Ooooh. More? Please?”

Jared grins. “You want more?” He thrusts his finger against the wall of Richard’s inside once and Richard moans decidedly as he nods and whimpers, propping his other leg up to give Jared more room. More access. 

“Please. More. I want,” he whines, thrusting his hips down as Jared starts to work his one finger inside of him.

It's all very surreal. Jared with his finger inside of Richard while the most beautiful and rewarding sunrise ever appears over the horizon. Jared embracing how beautiful it is to be alive. Richard doing the same. 

Jared probes a second finger to Richard’s hole, working it alongside the first. Richard squeezes his eyes closed, mouth hanging open. It feels weird. It feels weird. Good-weird. He thinks. But weird. 

But then he opens his eyes and he sees Jared staring down and he just fucking knows everything is okay. It's so okay. He leans up and presses a long kiss to his mouth while Jared’s two fingers explore inside of him, hooking against the side. 

“My God. Look at you, Richard. So lovely,” Jared mumbles, scissoring his fingers apart as Richard lays there and moans, his eyes darting from Jared’s face to the rest of him. “No ones ever seen you like this, huh? Just me.”

“Argh… Jared. Jared. Yeah. Just you. Fuck,” Richard cries, back arching off of the surface. He's floating. Oh, he's definitely floating. Jared smiles down, confident and happy and excited. “Only you.”

“All mine, pretty boy,” he presses a kiss to Richard’s shoulder as he watches the way that Richard's thighs shakes, whimpering loudly. 

Slowly, Richard leans up and connects their lips, shakily and messily. “Think m’ready. Heh. Please.”

Jared smiles, nodding earnestly. His fingers leave Richard and the shocked gasp that Richard makes has Jared nearly in tears. It's all so beautiful, he thinks, let me frame this moment.

(This is the second most vulnerable Jared has ever seen Richard.)

“Yeah? What do you want me to do, baby?” Jared asks teasingly, knowingly, while he holds his cock heavy in his hand and glares down. Richard whimpers.

“Want you to fuck me. Please? Please,” he whines, words dragged out and wanting.

Jared grins, dripping lube onto his cock, “Good boy.” Richard shivers (Oh. So that's gonna awaken something), trying so hard not to be scared. It feels easier when someone as selfless and kind as Jared is leading ship.

There's a beat of complete silence as Richard braces himself, feeling the tip of Jared’s cock against him. “Gah. I’m nervous. I’m nervous,” he admits suddenly, which isn't the best thing to say during sex, he supposes, but he needs to be honest with Jared. He can't not be. Jared pulls away quickly, but Richard is pressing him closer just as fast. “No, no, don't stop. I just. I-- Just wanted to let you know. Uh. I still want it. A lot.”

“Are you sure?” Jared asks, gaze concerned as ever. “Please stop me if you're uncomfortable.”

“Ah. I'm not. Please. I just-- I want it. I’m sure.” He pulls Jared closer, one leg wrapping tightly around his waist. Jared brings him in for a kiss, soft and sweet, and then he feels the head of Jared’s cock push inside of him and he’s breathless. Their mouths are still moving together but he's not sure how, because his entire body is on fire. He's on fire. Fuck. Ah. Fuck.

Jared squeezes his eyes closed, separating their mouths, as he slowly pushes his cockhead inside of Richard. When he opens his eyes, Richard’s mouth is hanging wide, his eyes brimming with tears. It’s magical. He thinks it's absolutely magical. 

“How does that feel?” Jared inquires, staring down at Richard’s eyes as they squint closed. He's taking it so slow. So incredibly slow. If he ever hurt Richard, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Richard wraps his arms around Jared’s neck and whimpers, “Ouch. But. Good. Good-ouch. Heh. I just. I feel so close. To you.”

It’s a strange sensation. The feeling of being spread open. Richard revels in it. “Oh, Richard. I’m so lucky.”

Jared pushes a bit more, experimentally thrusting his tip inside of him. Richard digs his fingernails into Jared’s shoulder blades, mouth gaped open. “Ooooh, oh. Jared. Jared,” Richard stutters, eyebrows furrowed deep. The pain starts to dissipate, leaving Richard with this wonderfully new feeling of pleasure and a combination of sweaty skin and crystal clear, blue eyes. “More. You can do more.”

He listens, slowly working his cock inside of Richard until he's about half way in and Richard is gasping for air unevenly, moaning into the universe. “You feel wonderful. So tight,” Jared mumbles, peppering kisses onto the corners of Richard’s mouth. Richard whimpers, rocking himself against Jared’s dick.

There's soft grunting noises that fill the open air around them as Jared pushes himself fully inside of Richard. Richard gasps loud, twisting his head from side to side.

(This is insanely beautiful. Jared wants to cry.)

“Aaaah. Oh. God. You're so… you're so fuckin’ big, Jared,” Richard cries out, pushing himself down against Jared’s slow thrusts.

“Yeah? You like the way it feels inside you, Richard?” Jared mumbles, his lips formed around Richard’s neck. He bucks his hips into Richard, faintly hearing the sound of their skin slapping sweatily together.

Richard nods frantically, clawing to get closer, to be nearer, impossibly more connected. “Lo- love it. Ooh. Jared, Jared, Hm. Don’t stop, please. Don’t stop.” 

Jared was never planning on doing so.

(This is his favourite part. Now they get to be majestic and synced like a beautiful symphony.)

“Gah, heh. Ha. Jesus Christ. Love your stupid, long face. Jared. Jared. Love you so much,” he cries out as Jared shocks inside of him, his cock filling Richard so incredibly wonderfully. 

“I love you, Richard. I love you. I love you,” Jared pants, breathing against Richard’s mouth. 

(Richard’s moans are like music to his ears. He's settling in on the cello while Richard finishes his violin solo.)

“Ah. Like that. There. That feels good. So good. Fuuuck. Jared, I… I wanna… ah. Ah. Yeah, yeah,” Richard mumbles out excitedly, sweat dripping down his forehead. He wraps his leg tighter around Jared and leans up, little whines breaking past his parted lips. “I feel so tiny. Ah. So tiny like this. Heh. Ha.”

Jared can’t help himself from planting a chaste kiss against Richard’s wet mouth. The sun is out, shining down on them like they're the last two people on earth. “My tiny baby. I love you-- God. I do.”

Richard moves with Jared, feeling his tummy rise and fall as Jared makes him feel more alive than he's ever felt. “Haha-- Jared. I’m gonna. I-- I'm. I’m close. Fuuck. Right there. That-- ah! Yeah, that feels so fuckin’ nice,” Richard spills out, his heel digging into Jared’s back and burying him deeper inside of him. And then Jared grabs his leaking cock and it's basically game over.

“Cum for me, pretty. Hm. Cum for me like a good boy,” Jared grunts, hitting Richard’s prostate intensely and repeatedly while jerking him off quickly. 

Richard’s moans are fucking obscene. He’s acting like there's not a single other being in the entire universe. It's just them and nature and these beautiful hills and these incredible sounds. Just them and a fucking sunflower blanket and a pushed-aside breakfast of eggs and vegetarian sausage patties. 

“I’m. _Ooooh._ Cumming. Gah!” Richard cries, his nails dragging across Jared’s back dramatically. Jared slows his movement, focusing on hitting that one fucking spot over and over again while Richard’s body staggers. While Richard Hendricks cums all over his fist. While Richard Hendricks breaths heavy against his neck in an attempt to weaken his moans. 

Jared pulls out, getting close himself, and strokes quickly while looking down at Richard. He prodes a thumb against Richard’s lips, and Richard lazily opens his mouth and lets the thumb in, sucking in a post-orgasm haze. 

“So beautiful. Gosh. I’m… I’m close,” Jared hums, closing his eyes and groaning as he spills all over Richard’s pubis and his lower tummy, whirring with desire and love and admiration. 

(He rolls off of Richard and lays down next to him, panting. Richard turns his head and gives a loopy smile, sweat dripping down his forehead. He kisses Jared. Jared kisses back.)

It takes them a few minutes to catch their breaths. But immediately after, they turn to each other and giggle, sticky limbs intertwined. Jared advises that they put, at least, their underwear back on. Jared cleans both of them with his sweater vest, ensuring Richard that he'll just get another way on the way back home. 

(Richard’s breath hitches at the insinuation of Jared’s apartment being home.)

“I've never had sex with a person I was in love with before,” Jared confesses softly as they get closer to noon. He has a hand in Richard’s curls, softly patting the top of his head. Richard kisses Jared’s collarbone sympathetically, snuggling closer to him. “It’s always been something I would do out of compulsion. I needed people to tell me that I was… worthy. In order to believe it.” 

“I’m. I’m sorry. That. You know? That it was ever that way,” Richard responds, hoping he hasn't said the wrong thing. 

“That's okay,” Jared sighs, kissing the top of Richard’s head. “Thank you for changing that.” The pad of his thumb strolls across Richard’s shoulder, rubbing against a tension knot softly. “I never thought I could have this. Never thought I was allowed to. This much… love.”

“God, you're gonna make me cry,” Richard laughs softly, lips on Jared’s jaw. 

“After so many years of being treated like that, you start to accept that reality. And I truly believed it. Until I met you.” Jared whispers, holding Richard tightly. He needs Richard to know. He needs him to realize how important he is. 

And then Richard has tears in his eyes, sniffling. “I-- I really love you.” Richard looks up, stares at Jared as he glances down, and kisses him long and pretty. _It's okay. I promise. I promise this is real and you deserve it and you’re worthy (so beyond worthy) and I love you._

They seperate and look into each other's eyes. There is no greater view in this world than Jared Dunn’s glacier-like eyes. Richard is sure of it. 

“My life has led me to you,” Jared whispers, “Oh, I don't want to seem overbearing. Richard. I just wanted to thank you.”

“No, no. Uh. Not overbearing. I mean. I… it's a lot. But. I need to, like, figure out. Just kinda how to be okay with that. Because I wanna listen to you. And. And. You deserve to be listened to.” Richard’s stumble comes out more clear than at least half of the things he says and he's so grateful for it. 

Jared can't do anything but kiss him.


End file.
